


Possessiveness and Other Such Oddities

by artsy_hoe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Creepy Tom Riddle, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Dead Lily Potter, Desi Harry Potter, Drarry, Harry Potter is Not the Boy-Who-Lived, Hogwarts Seventh Year, James Potter Bashing, James Potter Lives, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Minister for Magic Tom Riddle, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Tom Riddle, Prophecies, Ravenclaw Draco Malfoy, Ravenclaw Harry Potter, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Tom Riddle's Diary, Worldbuilding, aro/ace hermione, dadfoot and moomy, even though he isn't a horcrux, like a lot of it, smh, why isn't that a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27501742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsy_hoe/pseuds/artsy_hoe
Summary: Harry Potter exists in a world where Lord Voldemort (Now Minister Marvolo Peverell) has won, his father drinks the pain of his mother's murder away, his godfather has just gotten out of prison, and he's in Ravenclaw.  He's determined to make the best of it all with Hermione, Draco, and his friends in Ravenclaw, and with the exception of his prodigal talent in Defense, he slips under the radar.  Harry's happy with this life he's carved out for himself and is on the cusp of adulthood, but that is all threatened when the Minister takes a great interest in him.Just what does the Minister want with Harry?
Relationships: Background Hannah Abbott/Susan Bones, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Draco Malfoy
Comments: 33
Kudos: 215





	1. Allocution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hihihi!! I've been reading a lot of Ravenclaw Harry fics, and I wanted to try my hand at it. The next chapter should be up soonish. The first two chapters are inspired by, 'by you, I am forever undone' by fairyleeann. They are an incredible author so I recommend you check them out!!

Harry took a deep breath and exited the train, excited to start his 7th year, his last year at Hogwarts. He would be taking his NEWTS and applying for apprenticeships, hooking up with girls and boys, and drinking liquor until dawn. This year was his last chance to go out with a bang, though, as the first Potter in Ravenclaw in four centuries, he had made his mark already. 

  
  


He was jerked out of his thoughts by Hermione exclaiming, "Merlin, Harry, I forgot that the Minister was coming to this feast. I just remembered cause I heard Greengrass and Parkinson talking about it.” 

  
  


"Oh, Sweet Circe, I forgot too. Why’s he coming again?"

  
  


Hermione looked at him like he was denser than limestone before replying in a droll voice, “He’s coming to the Opening Feast because he’s looking for an apprentice. That was all was in your letter, Harry. Please tell me you read it.” 

  
  


“Hey! I did. I just forgot.” Harry said defensively. 

  
  


A person next to him huffed, and he whirled around to see his second favorite person in the whole wide world (the first was Hermione) Draco! He was dressed in his black robes, blue and bronze accents striking against his pale coloring. And hadn’t his sorting been a surprise. It fit, though, and after several violent incidents in their first year, Draco had inserted himself into the fast-formed friendship Harry and Hermione had. 

  
  


It wasn’t alright at first, with Draco being all snobbish about Hermione’s status as a muggle-born and her home at Merope’s Home for Mundane-Borns, but they eventually made a close friendship that Harry wouldn’t change for the world. 

  
  


“Darling, you’re spacing out again,” Draco said, silky voice tiptoeing the line between friendly and outright flirtatious. 

  
  


Harry shook his head as if to clear out all the wayward thoughts in his mind, and he huffed a laugh, smiling softly at Draco, who flushed a pale pink. Huh. That was new. His smile widened, and Draco’s breath softly hitched. This would have gone on further if Hermione hadn’t linked arms with them and dragged them into a carriage, interrupting whatever _that_ was. 

  
  


“Anyway, I’m quite intrigued on why he’s coming to Hogwarts instead of having people apply like normal apprenticeships,” Hermione said, addressing Harry and Draco in the comfort of the carriage. 

  
  


Sarcastically Harry replied, “He’s the Dark Lord. Does he ever do anything normally?” 

  
  


That got him a sharp elbow in the ribcage from Draco, who hissed, “Don’t be cheeky; he could be listening.” 

  
  


Hermione and Harry looked at him unimpressed, but Draco remained unrepentant. 

  
  


Harry added, “He probably wants to see all his options. Not everyone good for the job would apply.”

  
  


His two friends nodded their agreement, the conversation coming to a close as they arrived at Hogwarts. The view never ceased to amazed Harry, even after all these years. He let his magic stretch out, expanding and contorting in the air as they made their way inside towards the Ravenclaw table. It was very rare that he could do this, but Professor Flitwick, his Head of House, theorized that it was because he was so powerful and so small. He didn’t take offense at that, even though he very well could have. It was well known to those close to him that he was malnourished as a child and would likely never grow taller than his current 5’7”. Harry didn’t mind overly about his height, though; he was the perfect height for Draco to put his chin on his head and the ideal size for a cuddle with Hermione. 

  
  


When he entered the Great Hall, flanked by Hermione and Draco, his magic hummed lowly, causing the candles near the ceiling to burn a little bit brighter, so he reigned it back in and bundled it uptight.

  
  


"Hello Harry, your wrackspurts are smaller than usual, but your midaleus is angry at being locked up.” A dreamy voice noted, already seated at the table. 

  
  


Harry smiled and greeted Luna fondly before heading over to the 7th year section. He chatted with some of his year mates, making small talk; yes, he had read the textbooks already Lisa, no he hadn’t seen the newest edition of _The_ _Complete Collection of Curious Celtic Charms_ Terry, of course, he’s excited for Alchemy Padma it’s such a fascinating subject. 

  
  


"Quiet down." Hearing the dismal drawl, emphasized by a _sonorous,_ of Headmaster Snape, Harry turned his head to the head table. Like the rest of the school, his eyes widened when the Minister ceased his disillusionment charm and was before them in all his glory. He wore elegant evergreen robes with silver filigree. From what Harry could see, Minister Peverell had an ivory dress shirt with an ebony waistcoat, and his hair was neatly done, combed, and gelled to perfection. His magic washed off of him in sensual waves, heady, dark, and intoxication--it felt quite familiar. 

  
  


The Headmaster continued, “We will begin the sorting now.”

  
  


Harry let out a small 'aww' when he saw the first years. They looked adorable and so, so young. He could see Lisa’s little sister and Michael’s little brother in the group, but he didn’t recognize anyone else, though Hermione did. She gave a couple of encouraging smiles to a few of them--probably kids she knew from Merope’s. 

  
  


"They seem shorter this year, don't you think?" Harry joked. Knowing he towered over them satisfied him, given that he was the shortest boy in their year and two years below.

  
  


"You can't talk, pipsqueak." 

  
  


Harry stared at Draco in shock, pretend hurt visible on his face before quickly shooting back, "Well, that's why you look like a giraffe."

  
  


"At least I’m not the size of a field mouse.”

  
  


Harry let out a dramatic gasp followed along with smothered giggles, "A f-field mouse?! I know where you sleep, don't forget that."

  
  


"Wait, Harry, I was joking! You know I love you, shortness notwithstanding." Draco pouted. 

  
  


"You know I love you, shortness notwithstanding." Harry mocked, before rolling his eyes, causing their small group of friends to laugh and were quickly glared into quietness by an irate Headmaster Snape. They all winced and looked appropriately contrite, focusing on the sorting hat song rather than each other. 

  
  


The hat finished, and soon enough, the sorting started, prefects, standing next to the first year sides of the table to help them get settled.

"Beach, Bernice.” Was called out, and the sorting began in earnest. 

  
  


Harry perked up, having bet several galleons that the first sorting would go to Hufflepuff.

  
  


"Slytherin!"

  
  


Damnit! Draco won the bet, and by his smirks, he was enjoying the win. But he didn’t recognize the name. Was she the first muggle-born Slytherin in 10 years? By the mutinous looks of some of the older students, she was, but the girl took it in stride, walking confidently, with near-perfect posture and a perfect mask. 

  
  


Harry refocused on the sorting just as the first person went to Ravenclaw: Tallulah Cole, a positively tiny ravenette with big clunky glasses. He’d have to get her to Madame Pomphrey to fix that; those frames would not do.

  
  


“Corner, Bishop” 

  
  


Was called, and Harry could tell Michael was nervous. He didn’t need to, though, because after about a minute, “Ravenclaw!” was yelled. 

  
  


Harry tuned out the sorting, clapping when he was supposed to until the next name he was looking for was called.

  
  


"Turpin, Ava-Rose."

Lisa looked calm as if she knew exactly where her sister was going to go, and she did because she was entirely unsurprised when “Hufflepuff!” was called. 

  
  


Finally, the sorting was over, and the Headmaster began to speak. He had the same speech every year, so Harry tuned it out. Instead, he took note of all the new students: Tallulah Cole, Bishop Corner, and Poppy Lake he knew from their older siblings, but he didn’t know the other 12. 15 students in total. It wasn’t the smallest year, but it certainly wasn’t like Hufflepuff's year with 34 children. 

  
  


Then, abruptly, food appeared. Merlin, he must have really been lost in thought to be this startled, but he shook off that thought and began to eat. He chatted with Hermione, Draco, and the rest of his year mates, excited to have all his friends in one group after a particularly draining summer. Uncle Moony had gotten promoted and was the new head of the Dark Creatures Department--James had taken that as a betrayal and had been wasting away with Harry as his only caretaker. 

  
  


His episode wasn’t helped in the least by Uncle Sirius’ release who, after several coffee ‘dates’ with Uncle Moony and Harry, had rebuilt some sort of relationship and was incensed to find out how James ‘raised’ Harry. He wasn’t even mollified by Uncle Moony telling him he’d taken over after Harry turned eight and he was released from his house arrest; apparently, child abuse was totally inexcusable, and for it to happen to his pup? Unforgivable. He almost killed James with his bare hands after hearing about the neglect and physical abuse Harry had gone through and was only stopped by a pleading Harry, who had grown quite fond of his godfather and didn’t want to see him back in Azkaban. 

  
  


Harry ignored that, though, in favor of listening to Marietta spin a wild tale about her eldest sister’s latest suitor. He laughed, and joked, and gorged himself on delicious food, happy to be at Hogwarts and away from James, even if it meant that he couldn’t see Uncle Sirius and Uncle Moony. 

  
  


He must not have hidden it well enough because Draco grabbed his hand under the table, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand. They weren't together or anything like that (though that might change if Harry had something to do with it). Harry was just a tactile person. It took Draco some time to get used to the frequent hugs and warm touches, but now he found himself looking for subtle contact and physical comfort. Hermione didn’t mind as much because she was a touch-oriented person too. 

  
  


The minister watched the room with unfathomable dark eyes throughout the whole feast, purveying all the 6th and 7th years. Promising candidates, all of them, but especially that one male Ravenclaw with messy black hair. He was familiar, somehow. Harry, of course, didn’t notice the eyes watching him like a hawk (Draco was not oblivious and was very worried about how interested the Dark Lord was in Harry). 

  
  


Then, the Headmaster called the end of the feast, and the food disappeared. He stood up and said, “This year, our esteemed Minister is looking for an apprentice in their 6th or 7th year to study underneath him in the Ministry. This is an excellent opportunity, and I hope you all take advantage of it. Anyone with a grade average of EE or above will be considered. Minister, is there anything you'd like to address to the students?"

  
  


"It is a pleasure to be able to see the faces of the next generation, and I do so hope I will find an apprentice among you all."

  
  


Harry stared at the Minister with calculating eyes as he continued to give his pre-planned speech. Why did he seem so familiar? It wasn’t his features that struck him the most (he had seen those plenty of times in the papers) but his magic. His magic was weaving through the great hall, snaking like a great river. It wasn’t black, but it was a very close grey and had a strange metallic tang, like blood. It curled up against students like a giant, formless cat, affecting everyone in varying degrees. Some, like the second year Hufflepuff Mica Penn just flushed but others like the fifth year Gryffindor Annika Warbler nearly fainted as their bodies went hot and cold all over, limbs trembling, faces pale or flushed to the extreme. 

  
  


The Minister just watched all the reactions with an impassive face, uncaring of the effect he had on the students until he got to the short Ravenclaw he was especially interested in. He would have to figure out who that was. His intrigue tripled when his magic brushed up against another’s magic: dove grey mixed with a bright, almost unnatural lavender and extraordinarily powerful. Without another thought, he let his magic envelop the other mass. 

  
  


He didn’t care about the other’s reaction, that Harry went as stiff as a board and began to hyperventilate, that the magic made him think of his father standing over him and yelling that it was all his fault when he didn’t even know what was going on. All the Minister cared about was how good that boy’s magic felt—thrumming with power. 

  
  


He tried to corner the boy’s magic, but it quickly found a gap and slipped past before his magic could absorb it. Harry gathered the threads of his magic, trying to bring it back to his body, but he was too panicked to do it properly. The Minister snuffed the candles hoping to confuse this other magic, but it was wily and slicker than oil. The useless children screamed, distracting the Minister. That was enough time for Harry to calm down and pull all his magic back in.

  
  


The Minister’s magic screeched in anger, and the lights flickered back on as he reabsorbed his core. That brat. He was going to have him. He was going to. 

"Calm yourselves!" An agitated Headmaster thundered (he was exceptionally attuned to magic). That had the opposite reaction of what he wanted, so the older years calmed down, the younger years, especially those sensitive to magic. Some were crying, others had thick, red blood pouring out their noses, and many were pale and shaky. One girl had even vomited and was extremely mortified. 

  
  


Draco and Hermione made subtle eye contact with Harry, checking to see if he was alright. He nodded, trying to be reassuring but unsure of how well he accomplished that. Professor Snape stood, trying to regain control of the situation.

  
  


"7th years, escort the first years to their common rooms. The rest will be dismissed in 15 minutes." He called out. 

  
  


Harry, Hermione, Draco, and the rest of the 7th years stood alongside the first years. They stood at the Ravenclaw exit as the first years walked single file towards them, Harry did a quick mental count, and the other 7th years did the same. While they weren’t all prefects, as the oldest students, they had a duty to protect the youngest of them all.

  
  


"Is everyone ready?" Lisa asked, and once she got a nod or a verbal response from every first year, she began to walk out the Ravenclaw exit towards their tower. Michael started telling jokes, trying to relieve the tension, and soon he had everyone giggling, or at the very least amused. Harry laughed as he walked out of the hall, not noticing the crimson eyes that followed him with a predatory gaze. The Minister wanted--no _needed--_ to know more about this boy. Just who was he? 

  
  


Back in his dorm, after all the introductions and his overprotective friends were done, he sat on his bed. He had changed into pajamas and drew the curtains. He cast secrecy charms and wards, not wanting his secret to get out. Harry could hear the rustling of Michael and Terry (his only roommates), so he waited till all he could hear was the flipping of pages and scratching of quills.

  
  


He took a deep breath and pulled out his biggest secret. It didn’t look like much, but the plain black journal with a gold embossed name that he had found in the middle of his second year (he had pilfered it from the youngest Weasley when his magic called to it) on it was something he _never_ wanted anyone to find out about. He opened it, took out a self-inking quill, and began to write. 

  
  


**Hey Tom!**

_Hello Harry. How was your day?_

**Eventful.**

_Care to elaborate?_

**Of course. So I met someone today.**

_Do I need to be jealous?_

**You should be worried about Draco if you’re jealous; I’m thinking of asking him out, and secondly, no. I was very uncomfortable with the attention he was giving me. In fact, he reminded me of you in the beginning, but darker, if possible.**

_I didn’t know it was possible to be darker than me. And of course, I’m not jealous, as you very well know, I prefer women._

**I know you do. I just like to tease. And yeah. His magic tried to corner and absorb mine, so I got a pretty good look at it, and it was exactly like yours, just a few shades darker and almost bloody.**

_Now that is quite interesting. Care to tell me who it is?_

**Why the Minister for Magic, of course.**

_What._

**No yeah, he’s looking for an apprentice, so during the feast, he let his magic loose, and it started assaulting people, but then it caught a whiff of mine and went crazy. He almost let it absorb mine.**

_Remind me who the Minister for Magic is, again?_

**Minister Marvolo Peverell. You know this, Tom.**

_I know, I just wanted to make sure I killed the right person._

**I think you can kill the Minister for Magic and not know their name. They’re pretty recognizable with that crest of theirs.**

_It never hurts to be cautious. And I find it so fascinating how you don’t mind me casually talking about murdering the Minister for Magic._

**You’re incorporeal, Tom. And anyway, if he dies boohoo, cry me a river, he assaulted a bunch of kids today, and he killed my mom.**

_Ah right. I had forgotten that bit._

**Most people do. Anyway, it’s getting late, and I have to go. It was really lovely talking to you. I’ll try to meet you in the dreamscape last night.**

_Alright dove, sweet dreams._

**Sweet dreams, kitten.**

_I TOLD YOU IT’S PANTHER YOU PRICK!!_

**I know, I just don’t care! Night Tom!!**

  
  


Harry closed the diary with a smile like he usually did. Sure, he had terrific friends, but Tom was different. Draco was nice, but Harry was much too interested in getting in his pants for him to be family (unless they married), Hermione was a girl, and while Harry loved her, they didn’t wholly understand each other. The other male Ravenclaws weren’t close enough to be family. So, enter Tom, the brother he never had. 

  
  


Harry sighed. He was getting maudlin, and there was still the issue of Tom and the Minister’s magic. Were they related somehow? Or was there something darker at play? He was sure there was. He just hoped he wouldn’t lose Tom. He groaned and tossed his glasses haphazardly towards his nightstand (he didn’t worry too much since he had a catching charm on the furniture), set the diary under his pillow, laid his head down, and promptly fell asleep, forgetting the day’s troubles. 

  
  


While Harry was sleeping, in the Headmaster’s office, an annoyed Dark Lord was grilling Headmaster Snape on everything he knew about the boy. He had easy access to the school files and had already scanned it to learn it only had his name, age, date of birth, gender, mailing address, emergency contacts, courses, and grades. There was nothing more, nothing else of interest. 

  
  


Of course, he was impressed with the grades (O’s in everything except for an EE in Runes, which was well known as the most challenging subject at Hogwarts). He had also aced his OWLS and was looking at a very promising future. But there was nothing speaking of his magical prowess, nothing of what he was like. Nothing at all. 

  
  


Headmaster Snape tensed up slightly as he watched as the Minister became angrier.

  
  


"Where's the rest?" Asked the Dark Lord, with a deceptively calm voice 

  
  


Headmaster Snape took a breath before answering, "That's all there is to the school files. The only additional information that could be added is if he was a Quidditch player or was an especially problematic child, and he is neither."

  
  


The Minister’s magic tensed, poised to strike, and sensing danger, and Headmaster Snape diverted his attention by saying, “While the file may not be able to tell you much, I know the boy quite well, so I could give you any information you would like.”

  
  


When the Minister nodded, and his magic went back to normal, Snape could have cried with relief, but he had decorum, so, instead, he began telling the creepily interested Dark Lord the tale of one Harry Potter. How a scrawny, malnourished 11-year-old boy was sorted into Ravenclaw. He told him about his broken home with a dead mother and a deadbeat father and how his Uncle Moony, the Department Head of Dark and Magical Creatures, raised him. How the boy was quiet, curious, and intelligent. He told him of the boy’s magical prowess, academic strengths and weaknesses, and friends. 

  
  


Throughout this convoluted tale, Minister Peverell listened with an eerie intrigue. The more Headmaster Snape spoke, the more he worried about Harry. This level of interest did not bode well. Eventually, the Minister thanked him and left via floo, leaving a very concerned Headmaster Snape behind with quite a lot of equally concerned portraits. Of course, Harry didn’t know any of this because he was peacefully asleep in his bed. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Tom's magic was totally sexually harassing/assaulting the students. Like chill dude ever heard of boundaries...?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and have an amazing day!!
> 
> [A drawing of Harry, Hermione, and Draco](https://idkwhyiexist.tumblr.com/post/638429218789818368/a-drawing-for-my-fic-possessiveness-and-other)
> 
> Come bother me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idkwhyiexist) and [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/mia_jade3)


	2. Incipient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! So fair warning, there's mild blood and major creepiness from our favorite Minister. This chapter is a lot shorter than the previous one, but it came to a natural close. 
> 
> Also, I'm blown away by all of the hits and kudos' I have gotten in such a short time. Thank you so much!!!

The next morning Harry yawned and stretched, ready to start the day. Michael was already up, but Terry was the furthest thing from a morning person, and it would take quite a few charms and creative techniques perfected over the years to wake him up. It sounded like Michael had taken on the “waking up Terry in the morning” task, so Harry cast _tempus_. He had 30 minutes to get to the Great Hall, so he reluctantly left his cocoon of blankets and got ready for the day.

  
  


Hermione was already waiting for him (like she always was), but Draco was still in his dorm, probably styling his hair (like he always was). Harry and Hermione waited for him, though, like good friends, and not 10 minutes later, he was out of his room, a little breathless, like he fought someone for mirror rights (he had). Anthony, his roommate, was just as vain as he was, and they constantly battled for the vanity. It was a strange situation, but they had lived together for seven years, so they made it work and refused to switch rooms or add another mirror.

  
  


“C’mon! Let’s go!” Draco called, linking his arms in Harry and Hermione’s, and walking to the Great Hall with his friends. None of them would admit it sober or during the day, but they all had very lonely childhoods and found great comfort in each other and the easy, undemanding relationship. 

Harry, Hermione, and Draco sat down next to Luna, Cho, and a very lost first-year Gryffindor. They quickly showed the youngster (Viktoria Rowe) where she should be, and she thanked them profusely, skipping off to join her house. Harry served himself oatmeal, dusting brown sugar over it, as the rest of the students who were not naturally early risers stumbled into the Great Hall. Harry took note of who was here: the Slytherins were mostly all here, as were the Hufflepuffs. Only about half Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were there, and all the teachers were present, including a very deranged looking Minister. 

  
  


O-okay, that was weird. Harry decided to ignore the usually composed man who was currently angrily stabbing his eggs and sausages with a dark sort of glee--what had gotten the man so worked up that he was like this? Harry was not the only one to have noticed; he should be worried about his public image. People were sure to write home about that. Oh, and whatever last night was. That reminded him that he had to write to Uncle Moony and Uncle Sirius. Harry made a mental note of that and started listening to Luna explaining what heliopaths are to Cho, in a very roundabout and musical way that annoyed the straightforward and no-nonsense Cho. He snorted and joined Luna’s side, lightheartedly teasing Cho. 

  
  


Once Michael, Terry, and Anthony sat down and began serving themselves, Draco commented to the group, "If I have Double Potions first thing in the morning, I'm dropping out and going home."

  
  


Everybody laughed, and Hermione replied after swallowing a bite of scrambled eggs, "I think it's inevitable that you’ll have Double Potions if you want to be a healer. And, you know how Professor Black feels about having his NEWTS class early in the morning." 

  
  


Draco groaned and took an angry bite of toast. 

  
  


“Hey, Healer Malfoy!” Harry heckled, “My throat’s swollen, wanna kiss it better?”

  
  


Draco rolled his eyes and deadpanned, "Asphyxiate."

  
  


That brought out some laughter from their peers as they all continued to eat. Professor Flitwick walked over once everyone was more or less there (except for Rebecca Dawlish, who was always late to absolutely everything). He went down the table with a clipboard and the stack of schedules. Professor Flitwick could have easily charmed them all to each student, but he liked to catch up with his Ravenclaws and discuss their programs. 

  
  


When Professor Flitwick got to him, Harry chatted with him, asking about his summer, the recent dueling championship, and if it was possible to still take his NEWTS in Runes as a self-study course during his free period even though he only got a low EE. He was delighted with his schedule: Double Charms, DADA, and Transfiguration on his A Days (Monday/Thursday), Potions, Double Alchemy, and Advanced Arithmancy on his B Days (Tuesday/Friday), and a self-study day on Wednesday. Harry was a little miffed he didn’t have Magical Theory or Runes as actual classes. Still, he could always self-study and take the NEWTS at the Ministry, as he did with his Apparition classes and his Astronomy and Divination OWLS. 

  
  


Somebody was not as happy with their schedule as he was, as Draco let out a cry of horror.

  
  


"I h-have Double Remedial Potions first thing in the morning on my A Days AND Double NEWTS Potions bright and early on my B days!! Well, I’m afraid it’s been a good year, my friends; I’m going to check if the carriages are still outside."

  
  


The table laughed, but Hermione just rolled her eyes at Draco’s dramatics and responded, “You knew this would happen. Since when has Double NEWTS Potions not been in the first block?” 

  
  


Draco just groaned in response and put his head on Harry’s shoulder, his murderous mumblings muffled by Harry’s robes. Harry just patted his head lightly and struck up a conversation with Anthony about Arithmancy. 

  
  


Though he was happy and content, Harry couldn't help but feel uncomfortable as he felt a gaze on him. While he was accustomed to people staring at him (he knew he had a sort of elfin sort of beauty that lent itself to many a crush), this felt different, more predatory. His instincts proved right when Hermione hissed, “Don’t look now, but Minister Peverell is staring at you, Harry, it’s really creepy.” 

  
  


“I know. I can feel his eyes burning holes into me. It’s like he wants me to look at him.” Harry whispered back. 

  
  


The table exchanged looks. This level of interest did not bode well at all for Harry. While people respected the Minister, and he ruled with fairness, he was an obsessive, powerful man; you did not say no to him. 

  
  


“I’m going to look at him,” Harry said after a moment's silence. 

  
  


Draco looked at him like he was insane and whisper-yelled, “Harry, no!” 

  
  


That sentiment was echoed by at least six other 7th years, but Harry made up his mind and turned around, making direct eye contact with the Minister. He shouldn’t have done that, and he should have looked away as soon as he felt probing at his mental walls, but before he knew it, there was a second presence tearing through his mind. 

  
  


The rest of the Great Hall watched in abject terror as Harry, in a trance, rose from his seat and just stood there, direct eye contact with the Minister even as blood poured out his nose, eyes, ears, and lips. People let out soft cries and covered the first and second years' gaze. Eventually, he was released, and Harry crumpled into himself, collapsing onto the stone as the Minister looked on shocked and irate. Sensing that Harry was in incredible danger, Draco and Hermione ran towards him and practically dragged him out of the Great Hall to the infirmary. Headmaster Snape watched the proceedings, horrified but unable to do anything to help Harry. 

  
  


“Get OUT!” snarled the Minister to the Great Hall. All the teachers ushered the students out as quickly as possible--out of the Minister’s ire and into safety. 

  
  


When the last student scurried out of the room, the Minister roared, and his magic lashed out, destroying the room in an explosion of inky black and coppery reds. It was different hearing of the abuse from Severus, but to see it? The Minister was apoplectic. How DARE that man hurt him. Harry was HIS to hurt. To break his bones and char his flesh, till nothing remained but that gorgeous, gorgeous power. And that despicable man would pay for hurting his Harry. And that Hecate-damned mudblood and Malfoy heir. Harry was HIS, not theirs. His magic swirled around, only contained by the protective ward Hogwarts had for her students. 

  
  


And that box in the middle of his mindscape! What on Mother Magic’s earth was that?? What did Harry deem to be so important to hide that he locked it up in a floating chest, chains, deadbolts, and numerous keys (useless, all of them) draped over the box? The Minister had tried and tried again to get inside of it, but the damned thing wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he pushed. What was in there??

  
  


If he had taken a step back and taken a breath, he would have realized he was acting irrationally; he didn’t even know the boy. It was quite strange to be so entranced by this little twig of a 17-year-old after knowing of him for barely a day, even if Harry was very powerful. But the Minister was not one for introspection, so he continued to rage and rant, uncaring of the frightened students in their classrooms, feeling the very foundation of the castle shake. Nor did he care about the hysterical boy in the infirmary, his equally terrified friends trying to calm him down. 

  
  
He didn’t even care that in the deepest part of the Ministry, in a corridor filled with orbs of magic coated in dust, an _Avada Kedavra_ green orb began to glow, shocking the nearest Unspeakable. Oh Mother Magic and Morgana, the Unspeakable thought. This is quite bad. This is very, very bad. The Minister must never learn of this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the next chapter written already, so that should be up soonish. Thanks for reading and have a great day!! <3<3
> 
> Come bother me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idkwhyiexist) and [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/mia_jade3) if you want!


	3. Vagary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry talks to Tom! Everyone is terrified of the Minister! What on earth is going on?? This was a fun chapter to write because I love the dynamic between Harry and Tom. I hope you enjoy it!

Prophecies are finicky things; they always have many interpretations and answers. The bright green prophecy in the Ministry was no different, and it was in the process of being fulfilled, in a strange, roundabout sort of way. The current Minister did not believe in prophecies, to the distaste of the Unspeakables, but they kept their heads down and continued serving Mother Magic, not the Minister. 

  
  


Harry did believe in prophecies. He’d be stupid not to in a world full of magic, but he didn’t think there was one about him, much less one so important, so he didn’t care about them that much. Harry had already gotten his Divination OWL anyway. Besides, he was far more worried about that bloody Minister. After Minister Peverell performed that stunt, his mental shields were torn to tatters, and he could barely function. A Mind Healer wouldn’t be useful in this situation, as the only solution was to rebuild the shields in their entirety, which required immense trust. So, Harry’s options were slim. 

  
  
  


He ended up letting Headmaster Snape rebuild his shields because he had taught him how to occlude after Headmaster Snape had easily slipped in his mind in his first year and was immediately assaulted with Harry’s trauma. Headmaster Snape devoted seven hours to rebuilding Harry’s shields layer by layer, with Hermione and Draco taking over if the mental strain became too much.

  
  


They eventually collapsed in their separate hospital beds, not their own beds, since Madame Pomphrey would not hear of it. She also kicked out Draco and Hermione, so the loneliness Harry felt was beyond oppressive. He wanted Hermione and Draco. Harry wanted his Uncle Moony. He wanted Tom. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair before turning over and attempting to fall asleep. 

  
  


Though he eventually fell asleep, Harry slept fitfully, nightmares about his childhood plaguing his night. He did get enough sleep to feel adequately rested the next day, luckily. Madame Pomphrey did a couple of check-up scans, gave him a clean bill of health, and let him escape to his dorm. He was, though, banned from going to class today (something about his fragile mental state and he shouldn’t exert his mind). 

  
  


When Harry got back to his blissfully empty dorms, he went straight to his bed, drew his curtains, cast the usual concealment charms, and began to write to Tom. 

  
  


**Hey Tom...**

_ Hello Harry. Are you alright? You didn’t write at all yesterday.  _

**I uh. A lot happened.**

_ I can surmise that much, would you like to talk about it?  _

**So you know how the Minister was really weird and oddly possessive?**

_ I don’t like where this is going.  _

**Well, you shouldn’t, because in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast he performed legilimency on me.**

_...He didn’t. _

**I’m afraid he did.**

_ I- what???? _

**I feel the same way. My mind shields were destroyed entirely, and blood was everywhere.**

_ And he did that?? In the middle of the Great Hall???  _

**What can I say? I guess he’s gotten complacent.**

_ I’m going to kill him. Truly. I am going to escape this diary and strangle him with my bare hands.  _

**Tom, you say the sweetest things.**

_ You think I’m kidding.  _

**Not really. I don’t care if he dies, and you’re a diary. They can’t exactly lock you up in Azkaban. It’s not like you said you were going to kill Hermione or Draco.**

_ Hmm, I had forgotten about your little bloodthirsty streak.  _

**What can I say? I like getting revenge, especially after that shit he pulled.**

_ As do I. What did he find out, though?  _

**Everything.**

_...Everything?  _

**Well, except for you. You are a secret I’m taking to the grave.**

_ I don’t care if he found out about me; I care about your childhood! He has  _ _ no _ _ right to your private memories and experiences. That is something you choose to share with people you trust, not fucking Dark Lords who think they can do whatever they want.  _

**Wow. I've never heard you curse before. Do you feel that strongly about this?**

_ Of course, I do. I care about you.  _

**...Thanks, Tom. It, it means a lot.**

_ Of course, dove. Now. Do you remember what happened after he invaded your mind?  _

**Not much. I collapsed, and Hermione and Draco had to drag me out to the infirmary. I had the worst panic attack to date, I vomited twice, and then I blacked out. I know I passed out for three hours, and then I spent the day fixing my mind with Headmaster Snape, Hermione, and Draco. Hermione and Draco got kicked out to go to lunch, so they told me what happened then.**

_ And what happened?  _

**Merlin, I’m getting to that, you impatient cockatrice.**

_ Ha! You said cock.  _

**How did you ever fool me into thinking you were posh.**

_ I’m an orphan from 1930s London. Did you genuinely think I was posh??  _

**Now that you point it out…**

_ Argh, we’re getting off-topic. What happened next?  _

**So apparently, while I was passed out, the Minister kicked everyone out of the Great Hall and then began to destroy everything. The castle itself shook, according to Draco. He left before I woke up to the Ministry (small mercies), but all the kiddies were shaking in their little robes.**

_ I can imagine. What on earth would make him so upset??  _

**That’s the thing I have no clue. I have never met him before in my** **life** **, and now this is happening. I just wanted a normal last year. T-T**

_ Understandable. I truly don’t understand why he’s doing this; it makes no sense. You’re powerful, yes, but you’re just a regular 17-year-old. I don’t get the obsession.  _

**Exactly!! I have no!! Idea!! Why!! This!! Is!! Happening!! It can happen to someone else!!!!**

_ I wholeheartedly agree. Anyway, did you ever figure out why his magic seemed so familiar?  _

**No. I had forgotten about that. But it didn’t feel familiar at all today. It was really scary and violent. It tore apart my mind shields into ribbons. The more violent he got, the more unfamiliar he got.**

_ Now that is very interesting. Didn’t you say his magic felt like mine?  _

**Well, yes, at first. Now it’s just a violent, scary mass. Yours is a comforting grey, like a cat’s fur, but his is all angry and bloody like somebody made a monstrous mockery of a cat. Made a deadly, vicious, rabid, bloodthirsty beast of a feline.**

_ Tell me how you really feel.  _

**-_- Really, Tom?**

_ What can I say? My brand of humor is a little messed up.  _

**Wow, Sherlock.**

_ Enough chit chat. What I am apprehensive about is what the Minister plans to do with you. Do you know how you can make yourself uninteresting or something?  _

**No. And Headmaster Snape said he went into the Headmaster’s office to learn everything about me the night he met me.**

_ Oh, Merlin, this is really bad.  _

**I fucking know.**

_ Did Headmaster Snape tell you what he told the Minister?  _

**Yeah. He showed him my school file, which has my name, age, DOB, emergency contacts, and all my school reports, which is like my grades, courses, any concerns my teachers have, and the credits I have and need.**

_ I get a feeling that wasn’t exactly what the Minister wasn’t.  _

**You’d be correct. He got super mad and was like, tell me more!!! Like a fucking psycho.**

_ Sweet Circe, what a prick. Do you know what precisely the Headmaster said? _

**I do. Headmaster Snape gave him the rundown of my tragic backstory, how I’m a delight to have in class, who my friends are, basic things you would get from being a fairly trusted teacher, but nothing more.**

_ I’m not happy he had to share that much, but I’m glad he could keep the extent of your relationship hidden.  _

**I know. I can’t imagine what the Minister would want to know if he knew that Headmaster Snape’d been the closest thing to a parent at Hogwarts. I wonder what he’d ask if he knew of our relationship.**

_ Let’s not go there.  _

**Alright. I wish I knew what he wanted from me.**

_ As do I, dove, as do I.  _

**I wish I could stop him from being all predatory towards me. I hope he doesn’t want sex or something like that with me. I don’t think he’d take no for an answer.**

_ Pray to Hecate and Mother Magic he doesn’t want that.  _

**Don’t you worry, I am. That would be so, so horrible on so, so many levels. I just. I don’t know what to do.**

_ I don’t know what to do either. All I ask is that you keep your head down and act as unobtrusive as possible.  _

**I know, I know.**

_ I know you know that I’m just…  _

**It’s okay. I know you’re worried, and you don’t have to explain yourself to me.**

_ Thank you, dove.  _

**Of course, kitten.**

_ I won’t even berate you on that Thoth forsaken nickname because you’ve been traumatized.  _

**I haven’t been traumatized.**

_ …?  _

**I- you aren’t getting me to admit it.**

_ That’s as good as an admission in my book. Now shoo, you need to sleep.  _

**Who are you, my mother?**

_ No, yours is dead. Go. To. Sleep.  _

**Wow, rude. You can’t just say that. Your mother’s dead too. And your father.**

_ I know, dove. We’ve been over this. Now. Go. To. Sleep. Now.  _

**Ugh fine. You’re so bitchy. You’d be a great mom.**

_ You can’t tell, but I have the most unamused expression on right now. Why are you being so obstinate?  _

**I uh. I don’t want to go to sleep.**

_ Would you care to explain why? _

**I think you know why.**

_ I’d rather hear you say it.  _

**Ugh, you’re such a prick. I don’t wanna face the night terrors. I know they’re going to be bad, and I just. Don’t wanna deal with that.**

_ You can’t avoid them forever, dove. You have to face the music.  _

**I know, I know. Why can’t I be a normal person for once?**

_ You’re too remarkable for normal, dove.  _

**Thanks, kitten.**

_ -_- Stop being stubborn and go to sleep.  _ _ Now _ _.  _

**Ugh, fine, MOM. Good night.**

_ Good night, dove.  _

  
  


Harry snapped the book shut with an aggravated sigh and tucked it under his pillow. Despite his annoyance at being babied, he really did appreciate Tom. It was good to talk to Tom. He always knew exactly what to say. Harry sighed again, this time much softer, and the sounds of his roommates quietly chattering as they walked back in and noticed his drawn curtains lulled him to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, the next chapter should be up soonish!
> 
> Come bother me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idkwhyiexist) and [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/mia_jade3)


	4. Temerity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! This chapter is longer than usual and it contains a bunch of spells of my own making, so a list of all of them and their meanings are in the notes below (for those who are interested). Also, as usual, a lot of creepiness from our lovely Minister.

Being back in his own bed (and next to Tom’s soothing magic) had done Harry wonders, and by the time morning came around, he was well-rested and in a decent mood. He was beyond grateful that today was his self-study day so that he could catch up on his classwork after the debacle and recovery of the past two days. 

  
  


Harry brushed his hair and teeth, put on his school uniform, tied his tie, and meditated for 30 minutes before putting on his socks and shoes. Ever since he had gotten competent in occluding some odd four years ago, he had stopped meditating every morning, but now that he had to rebuild them, it looked like he was going to pick up the habit again. 

  
  


Michael was still sleeping, so Harry shouldered the task of waking up Terry. It took three alarm clock charms, an _aguamenti,_ physical manhandling, and several stinging hexes, but Terry eventually rolled out of bed and unhappily got ready for the day. The alarm clock charms woke up Michael, so he, too, blearily got ready. They pointedly did not mention the _thing_ with the Minister, something Harry was beyond grateful for. 

  
  


The three of them exited their dorm and were greeted by an anxious-looking Hermione and Draco, though they hid it admirably, Harry just knew them too well. He smiled and linked arms with them, and they all walked to the Great Hall. Everyone was mostly there, and he received plenty of sympathetic looks from his peers in other houses. Harry sat down next to Lisa, Luna, and Anthony and served himself some french toast. 

  
  


People gave Harry anxious looks throughout breakfast, but he paid them no mind and conversed with his friends instead, gleaning what had happened the past two days from them. He tried his best to push all thoughts of the Minister out of his mind, but he wasn’t very successful. Thank Merlin today was his self-study day. 

  
  


“I have an announcement to make,” Headmaster Snape called out, his voice amplified by a _sonorous_. 

  
  


The students quieted down immediately and waited with bated breath to hear what the Headmaster had to say. Many were startled by his announcement, especially Harry and his friends. 

  
  


The Headmaster said, in a blasé tone that belied his true feelings, “The Minister has decided that, for the rest of the days of the week, he will be observing several classes to better learn about the students. A schedule of his observation is in front of each student, so peruse that to your heart’s content.”

  
  


Harry’s stomach dropped. That was his schedule, mocking him in black letters. Divination, Double Astronomy, and Care today, but today was his self-study day. What he was more worried about was the Double Charms, DADA, and Transfiguration tomorrow and the Potions, Double Alchemy, and Advanced Arithmancy on Friday. Hermione and Draco both looked vaguely nauseous as they came to the same conclusion as Harry. 

  
  


At least he had a day to mentally prepare before he had to face the Minister. He looked to his friends taking Care and Astronomy (unless you had the sight, you couldn’t take NEWTS Divination, and Luna wasn’t in her NEWTS year yet) and exchanged anxious, sympathetic looks. Whatever the Minister was up to wasn’t going to go well for anyone. 

  
  


Instead of dwelling on his anxiety, he ate the last few bites of french toast, and when the Great Hall was dismissed, walked straight to the library. His assignments were already written in his school-distributed charmed notebook that teachers wrote a little summary of the class and the homework. His friends rotated in and out of his table at the library, the only constant presence being Hermione, who had the same study day as him. Draco and Cho dragged them out of the library for lunch, but otherwise, he spent the entire day catching up and reviewing. 

  
  


Overall, the whole day passed far too quickly, in Harry’s opinion, and before he knew it, he had finished all his homework and was eating dinner with his friends. There was a damper on the mood after Anthony, Marietta, and Helen got back from Care and gave hushed summaries of the Minister’s odd behavior. Apparently, he sat in the very back, shrouded in unnatural shadows, which were even more peculiar given that it was a practical lesson with the thestrals. Professor Romulus had taken it in stride, though, and was respectful and informative, like usual, if a little more cautious. 

  
  


Harry was just glad no one else was targeted like he was. That gratefulness didn’t last the night, though, and when he was back in the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, he was in a dreadful mood. He picked at his omelet and couldn’t stomach more than a few slices of fruit. A letter from Uncle Sirius and Uncle Moony brightened his temper, though. They apologized for the lateness and were appalled with the Minister’s behavior, though there was nothing they could do given their war criminal status. Uncle Moony was especially incensed, and according to Uncle Sirius, was about to storm over to Hogwarts and _avada kedavra_ the Minister himself. 

  
  


Their letter did much to lift his spirits during breakfast, but when he walked to his Double Charms with Padma and Cho, his mood soured, and his expression went stony. They didn’t try to make him feel better, which he appreciated; they just quietly talked about the usage of charms in duels and which ones they thought were most useful. 

  
  


The three of them entered the classroom and scanned the room for the Minister. They didn’t notice anything at first, but Padma discretely pointed out the warped shadows in the front right corner, and they took seats as far away from him as possible. Professor Flitwick was sitting at his desk, and he greeted them with a smile, acting remarkably calm, given the concealed Dark Lord right next to him. Harry, Cho, and Padma just smiled and waved before going over their notes as the rest of their classmates trickled in. It was a mixed house class as there were only two NEWTS Charms. 

  
  


After everyone was in the classroom, books, and quills out, Professor Flitwick began lecturing. 

  
  


“Last class, we went over the usefulness of charms in duels. Now, you have all written your three sheaf essay on which charms you would utilize, so we will be testing them out in today’s practical. Remember, duel to incapacitate, not kill, though it is important to know how to in a life or death situation.” 

  
  


Professor Flitwick then summoned all the essays with a flick of his wand and banished the chairs and desks in another, leaving an empty classroom perfect for dueling. 

  
  


He continued, “I have set up partners for you based on your skill in charms from last year, but think of this as a pre-assessment. Stand with your partner in a space in the room when I call your name. Padma Patil and Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown and Millicent Bulstrode…” 

  
  


Harry tuned out the speech until his name was called. 

  
  


“Harry Potter and Susan Bones.” 

  
  


He walked over to her and smiled, staying quiet while Professor Flitwick continued to call out names. When Professor Flitwick finished, he reminded the classes of the rules (don’t maim/injure/kill, charms only, utilize verbal and nonverbal charms, proper dueling stance, and a few others that Harry didn’t quite catch). Finally, it was time to duel properly. 

  
  


Susan and Harry bowed and faced off, waiting for Professor Flitwick’s countdown. 

  
  


“3…”

  
  


They adjusted their wand grip. 

  
  


“2…”

  
  


Harry took a deep breath and ignored the warped shadows becoming more distinct and human-shaped as if interested in the duel. 

  
  


“1…” 

  
  


Susan winked at Harry and shifted her stance. 

  
  


“Begin!” 

  
  


Spells went flying everywhere in a colorful cacophony. Harry sent a nonverbal _incendio_ that Susan deflected. She sent back an _avis_ with twittering songbirds that Harry banished. They traded back spell after spell, circling each other, but mindful of their surroundings, as good duelists ought to do. 

  
  


They kept going back and forth, beads of sweat forming, as the rest of their peers won or lost their respective duels, and began to watch Susan and Harry’s duel. Susan was unparalleled in charms work, but Harry had the advantage of being a much better duelist, so they were more or less equally matched, and it was showing. 

  
  
  


They weren’t speaking at all, their shield charms flickering in and out, blocking spell after spell. Harry hit Susan with an overpowered _gaudium,_ and she doubled over with laughter. But in quick succession, she cast _aguamenti_ and _glacius,_ changing the ground underneath Harry to a slippery sheet of ice. He tripped and quickly banished the ice, but it was enough for Susan to recover, and he lost his advantage. 

  
  


He rolled his eyes and readied himself for another half hour of dueling. Susan took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, her Hufflepuff tenacity showing. Harry whispered a _densissima capillos,_ its bright purple hue crackling against Susan’s quickly cast _protego,_ and the fight began in earnest again. 

“Verbal charms, please!” Professor Flitwick called. 

  
  


Susan cast a, “ _Ventus calidus_!” 

  
  


Harry countered with a _frigus,_ and the scalding, volatile air turned back to normal. He returned her attack with three quickly cast _suppresso temporis_ that Susan skillfully deflected, but she was put back on defensive. 

  
  


While Susan’s charms work was outstanding, it was clear she was fighting a losing battle as Harry’s dueling ability came into play. He made no mind of Professor Flitwick’s narration and began to cast verbal spells quickly and harshly. 

  
  


Harry cast charm after charm, all in a quick succession that had Susan backing up and reinforcing her _protego,_ waiting in vain for an opening. He never gave her that, and the class was waiting eagerly for the finale. 

  
  


“ _Tarantallegra! Vinea funem! Flos pellis! Somnos in aeternum!”_ Harry called out, his wand slashing through the air with vicious efficiency. 

  
  


Susan’s brow furrowed, and she double-layered her shield and quickly sent the spells back to Harry. Instead of casting a shield, he dodged the charms and encased them with a _hydria bulla_ before banishing them. The class was silent, they hadn’t seen anything like that before, and Susan looked on appreciatively. She readied her wand, back on offensive, and opened her mouth to cast a spell when she heard a slow clap. The Minister disillusioned himself and walked--no stalked--towards the pair. They lowered their wand arms and stood, facing the man. 

  
  


The Minister smiled slowly and dangerously before speaking, “I would like to duel with whoever wins this one; you both are very impressive.” 

  
  


It was clear, though, that he was speaking right to Harry. They looked at each other, and Susan looked at him sympathetically. They nodded their understanding, and the Minister’s smirk widened. 

  
  


“Well, carry on then. I’m enjoying the _show._ ” 

  
  


Harry gulped and readied himself, loosely holding his wand and squaring his shoulders. Professor Flitwick unhappily counted off, and the fight began again. While they were both more than willing to throw the fight, their competitiveness didn’t let them, so they cast spells with unrivaled ferocity and talent. 

  
  


They exchanged charm after charm, sweat dripping down their foreheads, lungs pumping. They circled each other and resorted to physical dodges and evasions. Harry ran circles around Susan, but she caught on quickly and learned to predict where he would go. After a few close calls, he went back to standing in place. Flashes of every color under the sun went off, and reinforced shields were repeatedly dismissed and recalled. The class waited with bated breath for who would win. 

  
  


Sensing that the duel was coming to a close, Susan cast _nebula nebulosus,_ hoping to catch Harry off guard, but he cast _auris bona,_ spelled his shoes to be silent, and crept up behind her. When she couldn’t hear him anymore, she recalled the spell but was quickly disarmed and immobilized by Harry when he could see exactly where she was. 

  
  


The class cheered, and Susan congratulated him, but Harry felt nothing but dread. Susan hugged him and apologized, but she could do nothing as the Minister strode over to the pair. She scurried over to the rest of her classmates, and the Minister smiled. 

  
  


It was an eerie smile, and Harry was petrified. With a shaky voice, he asked, “W-what are the rules of this d-duel?”

  
  


The Minister’s smile widened, and he answered, “Any spell allowed and aim to incapacitate, no maiming and killing.” 

  
  
  


“That’s it?” Harry asked, more than a little concerned. 

  
  


The Minister tilted his head in a mockery of a nod. Harry let out a breath and said, “Alright.” 

  
  


Professor Flitwick cast an invisible barrier that would absorb any fly away spells (as well as detritus, shrapnel, and anything else that could occur in a duel) but still allowed the audience to watch. 

  
  


They bowed to each other and squared off in a proper dueling stance. Harry had never felt so small and helpless as he felt standing in front of the Minister, who was annoyingly tall and intimidating. 

  
  
  


“3…”

  
  


Harry refrained from shifting from foot to foot, though he dearly wished he could. 

  
  


“2…” 

  
  


The Minister’s red eyes narrowed when he tried probing at Harry’s mental walls and found them stronger than before. 

  
  


“1…”

  
  


Harry gave into temptation and shifted, and the Minister smiled lecherously. 

  
  


“Begin!” 

  
  


Harry immediately went on defensive as the Minister sent a flurry of spells, all of them a bright, sickly yellow. When fighting an unknown opponent, Harry always went on defensive to see which spells they relied on, how they moved, and any other information he could catalog on them. He used the Minister’s skill and his initial nervousness to hide that he was collecting data. Sure, he had been scared, but now he was in his element. Harry knew he had enough skill to come out of this reasonably unscathed, even if he lost. 

  
  


The Minister didn’t seem like he had caught on to Harry’s acting, and he was getting overconfident. Harry inwardly smirked as the Minister started casting slower, using less impressive spells, and abandoned his shield. After the Minister cast one last spell, Harry felt that he had learned enough and shifted onto offense. He conjured a sand storm, and in the time it took the Minister to banish it, Harry was already shooting off spell after spell. The Minister seemed shocked at Harry’s viciousness and attempted to gain ground. He growled and tried to intimidate Harry by shooting off lethal spells, but Harry wasn’t fazed. 

  
  


If anything, it made Harry more confident (but never smug), and Harry’s spell casting became sharper, brighter, and more powerful. The Minister was getting angry at having lost the upper hand and became sloppy. He had the air of a competent dueller who had spent too long at the top and had gotten complacent, and Harry tasted blood. 

  
  


The Minister snarled, and he began casting verbally, anger clouding his mind. Harry blocked a _sanguis erupti,_ a _depilo,_ and two unknown curses. His eyes widened. The Minister must be getting very angry to cast such curses verbally. A glance at the class and Professor Flitwick showed that they were all as worried as he was (though he didn’t show it as much, and he quickly compartmentalized it). 

  
  


Harry wiped sweat off his forehead and melted into the floor. Well, he actually hid with a spell Aaron Woodbridge (one of his fellow 7th year Ravenclaws) created that made it look like he dissolved and turned him invisible. The Minister and the class were shocked, and that opening was enough time for Harry to cast _vinea funem._ The Minister fell into a chair Harry quickly conjured and nearly roared in rage. Harry ended the illusion spell and pointed his wand at the Minister from a safe distance. 

  
  


“Do you yield?” Harry asked quietly, chest heaving. 

  
  


The Minister spat out, “Yes,” before burning the vines with black fire and sheathing his wand. 

  
  


He stalked out of the room, anger clouding around him like a wraith. 

  
  


When the Minister was a safe distance away, Harry began to laugh with relief. It was a breathy laugh with a near-hysterical edge, and the rest of the class felt the same. He collapsed onto his knees and leaned against the wall. Professor Flitwick cast _tempus_ and dismissed the class 25 minutes early. Harry didn’t get up, and he waved away Padma and Cho in favor of letting his head rest against the cold brick. 

  
  


“That was one of the best duels I have ever seen; you truly have the gift of dueling,” said Professor Flitwick.

  
  


Harry smiled and replied, “Thank you, though I couldn’t have beaten him if he hadn’t gotten so overconfident and angry.” 

  
  


Professor Flitwick just raised an eyebrow and said, “Knowing your opponent is a part of dueling. Now, do you need to go to the Hospital Wing?” 

  
  


“No, no. I’ll be fine in a couple of minutes. I could use some water, though.” 

  
  


Professor Flitwick nodded and conjured a cup and cast _aguamenti._ He handed it to Harry, who smiled in thanks and gulped down the water. 

  
  


“I’ll write you a note, so you don’t have to practice more magic next period. It wouldn’t do for you to get magical exhaustion. What class do you have next?” 

  
  


“Dueling And the Dark Arts.” 

  
  


“Perfect. I’ll write a note to Professor Escrivá letting her know what happened.” 

  
  


“Thank you so much.”

  
  


“Don’t thank me; it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.” Professor Flitwick noted absentmindedly while writing the note. 

  
  


He then handed the note to Harry and said, “Well, off you go.” 

  
  


Harry thanked him again and grabbed his stuff. He was immediately accosted by Draco and Hermione, who looked frantic. 

  
  


“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” He repeated over and over as Draco cast all the detection spells he knew. After Draco finished, his worries assuaged, Hermione, bundled them both up in a hug, slotting together like Matryoshka dolls. 

  
  


“Mother Magic and Morgana Harry, you have no idea how terrified we were when Padma, Cho, and Susan told us what happened in Charms,” Hermione said, her hands cupping Harry’s face. 

  
  


She planted a soft kiss on his forehead and patted his cheek. If anyone else had done that, Harry would have called them patronizing and condescending, but that was just how Hermione was. To Harry’s embarrassment, the whole situation caught up to him, and he began to cry. Hermione just hugged him even tighter, and Draco tilted Harry’s head towards him, wiping away Harry’s tears with the pad of his thumb. 

  
  


Draco then said, softly, “I think we’ve clogged the hallway up long enough. Let’s head to DADA.” 

  
  


Hermione stepped away and nodded her agreement, linking her arms with Harry’s on his right side, Draco linking his on Harry’s left. They walked to the DADA classroom, and it seemed that everyone, from the littlest first year to all their year mates, knew about the incident in Charms. Harry sighed but shrugged the whispers off and entered the room. 

  
  


The trio was a few minutes late, so Professor Escrivá just raised a pencil-thin eyebrow, and Harry bashfully handed her the note from Professor Flitwick. She let out an infinitesimal gasp, and her eyes widened. Professor Escrivá then looked back up and waved them off, telling them to find seats and start taking notes. 

  
  


Harry thanked Merlin that today was a lecture day (the previous day had been safety warnings, regulations, and NEWTS information). He set up his workspace and began diligently taking notes. Harry had assumed that the Minister had gone back to the Ministry to brood, but he, unfortunately, thought wrong. Nobody noticed (besides Professor Escrivá, but she was in no place to speak up) that the Minister was skulking in the back row of the classroom, licking his wounds and keeping tabs on that Potter boy. 

  
  


What a powerful, powerful boy his Harry was. While the loss smarted his pride, what a glorious loss it was. Harry Potter was a formidable opponent and would only grow better with time. Harry’s ingenuity, swiftness, and range of spells made him a very, very talented duelist. That combination of _tempestas harenae_ and the three _pulmotram_ jinxes cast all in a row had caught him off guard. It was perfect. The duel was perfect. _Harry_ was perfect. 

  
  


And the Minister was going to have him. He never thought of taking a male in that way, but Harry was just so deliciously powerful. Or maybe he could have the boy as his heir. Anyway, who said it had to be one or the other. The boy was delightful, and the Minister would have to duel him again sometime. Too bad DADA was a lecture today, though it was fun watching his prey act all studious as if he wasn’t the most powerful being in the whole Hecate-damned room and could kill them all in a mere blink. Oh, the Minister was going to enjoy this chase. 

  
  


Harry couldn’t wait to get out of that classroom. It felt like he was being watched. Every so often, the hairs on the back of his neck would stand up, and he would have to untense his muscles and even out his breathing. Draco had noticed and was furtively looking around the room, looking for unnatural shadows, warped tiles, or faint shimmering (any sign of the Minister). He had no such luck and was just as happy as Harry to flee from the classroom when Professor Escrivá dismissed them all. The Minister left in the flurry of students and went back to his office in the Ministry to catch up on paperwork and plan out his next move. 

  
  


As soon as the Minister left Hogwarts, Harry felt the tension leak out of him, though he didn’t exactly know why he was so relaxed all of a sudden. He just shrugged and headed to lunch with Hermione and Draco. When Harry sat down at the Ravenclaw table, all the 7th years (and Luna) crowded around him, concerned. When he was younger, he would have minded their nosiness, but now they were his family, and family could be nosy out of concern. 

  
  


Harry explained what had happened, going into near excruciating detail about the duel. Still, he knew his Ravenclaws wouldn’t be satisfied with a run-down, so he continued to go over spell after spell, minute by minute, till he finished. They all looked stunned and started fussing over him. 

  
  


He just smiled affectionately and let Padma, Sue, and Cho fill his plate with doi maach, white rice, and dhokar dalna. He may not like his father, but he certainly appreciated their heritage and the gifts it gave him, namely parseltongue. Harry sipped masala chai and let Anthony and Terry grill him over the spells he used and how he could improve, listening attentively and bemusedly. 

  
  


Hermione and Draco were pressed up against his sides, providing the physical comfort he desperately needed. Luna looked unusually solemn, and she whispered foreseen futures entangled in between comments on wrackspurts, midali, and nargles. Lisa, Marietta, and Maisy fielded questions from other concerned students (his year mates in different houses, Ravenclaws in other houses, and other students who knew or of Harry) so Harry didn’t have to deal with their probing queries. The rest of the 7th year Ravenclaws just formed a barrier around Harry, and he was beyond grateful for them.

  
  


Soon enough, lunch was over and Harry, shielded by his friends who had Transfiguration with him (Terry, Sue, Helen, and Ophelia). He had never been so grateful for the Head of House for Gryffindor, Professor McGonagall, as he was in the class period. Her no-nonsense way of teaching made it so that Harry wasn’t bothered the whole time. They were currently doing self-transfiguration, so everyone needed to focus. It also helped that even the Minister was afraid of her, so he didn’t bother coming into her classroom. 

  
  


Finally, the class period ended, and Harry rushed back to his dorm, flanked by Helen and Ophelia (Terry and Sue went off to the library). Making some haphazard excuse about wanting alone time, he rushed into his dorm, threw his shoes off, and quickly summoned a quill. 

**Good afternoon to the wonderful, fabulous Tom Riddle!**

_I don’t like where this is going._

**You don’t like me complimenting you??**

_No, I like that, keep them coming, but you only act like this when you’ve done something wrong. So, spill._

**Ugh, you know me too well.**

_We’ve already established that dove, now, what did you do?_

**I didn’t do anything! That bloody Minister did!!**

_Oh, sweet Circe, what happened._

**So you know how I told you all about how the Minister was going to observe our classes.**

_Oh, I really don’t like where this is going._

**And you know how 7th-year Charms is all about dueling?**

_You didn’t._

**I didn’t have a choice! Susan Bones and I were dueling for class, and it was going on for quite some time since she’s terrific at charms work, and I’m not too shabby at dueling myself.**

_I’m going to stop you right there; you are unparalleled in dueling for your age group._

**I- uh. Thank you. Anyways, so the Minister is just skulking in the corner watching us, so we’re dueling for a while. But THEN the Minister is all like, “I'm gonna duel whoever wins,” but he’s looking right at me.**

_So you won?_

**Of course, I won. So then the Minister is like, congrats, time to duel, and Professor Flitwick is all like, I’m so sorry, here’s a shield that won’t ricochet the spells.**

_And then you duel?_

**Yup. So we duel, and I’m immediately on defense, trying to see what he’s all about cause nobody’s seen him duel in like decades.**

_Smart decision. Then what happened._

**So I play up the “I’m a little scaredy-cat” vibe, and he starts getting overconfident.**

_I like where this is going._

**You will because he starts dropping his shield more and more, and so I take advantage of that, hit him with a** **_tempestas harenae,_ ** **and that catches him off guard. So I’m on offense, and I’m fighting like I’m going to die or. You know. Like I’m fighting the man who killed my mother. He starts getting really angry and sloppy, so I use that spell Aaron made,** **_diffluerenullum,_ ** **and he’s super shocked. I used the five or so seconds of shock to cast a** **_vinea funem,_ ** **and he yielded.**

_Morgana's tits you beat the Minister in a duel??_

**Yup.**

_And you aren’t magically drained??_

**Nope! I’m just as surprised as you are.**

_What happened after you won??_

**He left for the Ministry to lick his wounded pride or something.**

  
  


_Congratulations. That is a very, very impressive feat. Now that you’ve told me all there is to know, you must get some sleep. Your friends will wake you up for dinner. Just leave your curtains ajar._

**Yes, Tom. You’re such a mother hen.**

_No, I’m just right. Now go to sleep._

**Alright. Goodnight.**

Harry took Tom’s advice and changed for bed. He knew that he wouldn’t be up for dinner (a sort of bone-deep exhaustion was clinging onto his body from all the magical usage), so Harry just spelled on his pajamas and fell right asleep. 

  
  


In the Minister’s office on the 21st floor, Minister Peverell was sipping a several hundred galleon firewhiskey. He didn’t like it, but he really needed it. In his hands was Harry Potter’s family tree. Lord Black was one of his godfathers, the other Department Head Lupin. His father was the war criminal Lord Potter, and in a sick twist of fate, his mother was Lily Potter nee Evans. 

  
  


The Minister recalled every person he had killed for his Horcruxes (Myrtle Warren, Tom Riddle Sr., Hepzibah Smith, Mcauley O'Brien, Eliyas Woodley, Bertha Jorkins) and he rarely killed outside of them. He had only ever killed three people for non-Horcrux reasons. Tom Riddle Sr.’s parents were two of them, and that was for revenge. But there was a final woman he had killed. Lily Evans. Her death had been a tragedy, but she had discovered the Ravenclaw Diadem and figured out what it was, so, regretfully, he killed her in her own home. The stupid woman had thought she was here for the baby and had practically thrown herself in front of his wand. 

  
  


That revelation complicated things quite a bit, the Minister mused. Oh well. Harry would have to get over it, because he was the Minister’s now, and the Minister didn’t care for silly notions like _grief._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gaudium - cheering charm
> 
> densissima capillos - hair-thickening charm that causes all hair on the person to exponentially grow
> 
> ventus calidus - hot air charm
> 
> frigus - general cooling charm
> 
> suppresso temporis - time slowing charm that stops the movement of the hit object
> 
> vinea funem - a charm that makes vines capture the hit object
> 
> flos pellis - a charm that makes flowers grow from skin
> 
> somnos en aeternum - a charm that puts the targeted person into a deep sleep until the counter charm is cast
> 
> hydria bulla - a charm that encases something (even spells) in an impenetrable bubble
> 
> nebula nebulosus - a charm that creates an impenetrable fog
> 
> auris bona - a charm that improves hearing
> 
> sanguis erupti - a hex that erupts the blood vessels
> 
> depilo - a hex that peels the skin of the victim off
> 
> tempestas harenae - a sand storm charm
> 
> pulmotram - a jinx that causes rocks to form in a person's lung
> 
> diffluerenullum - an invisibility charm that creates the illusion that the caster dissolves
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and the next chapter should be up soon!!
> 
> Come bother me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idkwhyiexist) and [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/mia_jade3)


	5. Lacuna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W Reference to the past sexual assault of a minor and the Minister's usual creepiness.

As Harry expected, he slept through dinner and, to the next morning. He was woken up by Michael casting several screeching alarm clock charms and, feeling remarkably refreshed, he headed to the bathroom and got ready for the day. 

Harry sent up a prayer to Mother Magic that the Minister stayed away for today (and the rest of his life) and left for breakfast with Hermione and Draco. He had Potions first thing in the morning (not double, thank Merlin, that was on Draco’s A days) with Hermione, Maisy, Anthony, and Terry. After breakfast, he walked to the dungeon classroom with them. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised, he thought, resigned, by the unnatural shadows in the far left corner of the classroom, but he was, and Harry was very, very angry. Harry didn’t get angry often, but there was something about the Minister’s single-minded obsession with him that made icy cold rage fill his veins. This was the man responsible for his fucked up home life and James’ depression (Harry knew that James was an adult, yes, but the Minister shouldered some modicum of blame), and this was the man who slaughtered his mother. 

At that moment, making eye contact with the Minister’s dark red eyes, Harry vowed to do whatever it took to take down that man in front of him. Whatever it took. (If a green orb in the Hall of Prophecies glowed even brighter at that thought, well, Unspeakable Larkspur wasn’t going to tell anyone). 

Harry did not react outwardly other than a narrowing of his eyes as he shoved all his (icy, frigid, so cold it burned) anger behind his Occlumency shields. Hermione led him to their assigned table and waited for Professor Black to start class. 

Hermione was worried. She had only ever seen Harry get angry (not annoyed, irritated, or mad) two times. The first was in their 1st Year, and Draco had called Hermione mudblood scum. Harry had gotten all stony, icy, wrong, and Draco had woken up drenched in mud, pigs’ blood, and pond scum from the Black Lake (all of his clothes and bed sheets were too). 

The other time was much, much more terrifying. In 3rd Year, there had been a student in their 7th Year--a creep named Vivian Penmark--who had drugged Draco with Amortentia. Harry and Hermione had discovered them in a very, very compromising and very, very illegal position. Draco told Hermione once, late at night, that while she was vomiting, Harry had looked at Vivian dead in the eyes and cocked his head. 

Nobody knew what happened to her other than that her family, three months later, received her jarred uterus and a note that read retributum est peccatum. Her family left the country and did their best to forget that they had a daughter. This was especially prudent given that people were coming forward on exactly what sins needed retribution (and there were many, many, many she had to atone for). Draco and Hermione wisely ignored the blood under Harry’s fingernails and the wild look in his eyes the three months before her family received that gift. 

Hermione and Draco both knew that there would only be one victor in this deadly dance between Harry and the Minister and that Harry was not the one dangerously underestimating his opponent. While they were initially worried, given that the Minister was a very powerful, very violent man, they weren’t as much anymore; Harry was not a being to be trifled with. He may have been complacent to let the Minister walk all over him for a few days in hopes he’d move on and find another obsession, but his power plays? His blatant perversion and disruption of his learning? The Minister’s general disregard and the false sense of ownership? Harry was not going to roll over and show his belly. 

If a Horcrux underneath Harry’s pillow became increasingly anxious as he mulled over the information he had been given, it was obviously due to his annoyance over how far his main soul piece had fallen. It was obviously not because Tom was the only other being who knew exactly what happened to Vivian Penmark or his fondness for Harry. 

Back in the Potions classroom, Harry was listening to Professor Black call names for roll. 

“Right!” Professor Black started, “Now after we went over the safety procedures on Tuesday, it’s time to start on our first project of the term. Ms. Brown, what can you tell me about Amarenovis?” 

Lavender cleared her throat before saying, “Amarenovis has two main uses; the more common one is as an antidote to Amortentia, but if one uses a bloodstone rather than a sunstone, any feeling of romantic love can be erased. An overdose of Amarenovis makes it so the victim can never love again, romantically, platonically, or otherwise. It looks like onyx and smells exactly like Amortensia, but with an added scent of what you most hate.” 

“Thank you, Ms. Brown, take 3 points for Gryffindor. Like many antidotes, the steps are exactly magically opposite of Amortentia, so we will be finishing it in this class and testing them in a controlled, private environment next class. There is a reason there are only 12 students in this class and 9 in my other. We are working with very dangerous potions.” 

Professor Black looked at them sternly before continuing, “Amortentia is one of the worst potions out there, which is why we no longer teach you how to make it and focus on the antidote, instead. Now, I have posted the instructions on the board, so gather your ingredients and begin.”

Harry read the scrawl of chalk on the blackboard and, while Hermione set up their work station, went to their assigned cubby to grab: 

[24 g] Terrafire Lizards, Whole  
[16 g] Rose Stems, Diced  
[2 mL] Peppermint Oils  
[8 g] Sunstone, Loosely Crushed  
[16 g] Rose Leaves, Smashed

When he returned with all the ingredients, Hermione smiled in thanks, and they began to make the potion. Hermione poured a liter of Standard Potioning Water in their silver cauldron and turned on a hot flame. 

Harry measured out 2 mL of peppermint oil and waited for the water to boil before pouring it into the cauldron. He crushed the sunstone, one gram at a time, while Hermione added each one, stirring clockwise four times between. 

They waited for the potion to settle for precisely 24 minutes and 20 seconds before unceremoniously dumping the rose stems. After waiting 16 minutes and 12 seconds, Hermione added the rose leaves too. 

Then came the tricky part, every 4 minutes--exactly--they had to stir 16 times clockwise and add a whole terrafire lizard that had been only fed may bells. Once they did that, their potion was thick and matte black and ready for the last step. Hermione took her mother-of-pearl dagger and slit her fingertip, squeezing four drops of blood into the potion. It swirled, and its matte color turned shiny and iridescent, like the oil spills Hermione had seen in pictures. 

They lit up their work table button that let Professor Black know they were finished without disturbing their other classmates. Professor Black strode over and looked impressed by their results. He complimented their potion quietly, took several samples, and vanished the rest. Professor Black then told them to clear off their work table, decontaminate, and start on the assignment he had written in their notebooks. 

Harry put all the excess ingredients back in their storage cubbies, making sure to put them next to non-reactive ingredients and that all of it was inside the container. Simultaneously, Hermione methodically scrubbed the work table with a cloth imbued with a tumus bene. She scoured the cauldron, table, knives, and other utensils. When Harry got back, they both got out their notebooks to check the assignment. Pulling out parchment, quills, and ink, they outlined their 6-sheave essay since they didn’t have enough time to write the whole paper. 

Hermione and Harry got into a rhythm of writing and quietly conferring as the rest of their classmates finished up (they were the second group to have completed their potion). They pointedly ignored the hairs prickling up on the back of their necks and just outlined their body paragraphs. 

Finally, the whole class was finished, cleaned up, and working on their essays, and Professor Black called for attention. 

“Students, since we have 25 minutes left, we’re going to do a little exercise on what we smell in Amarenovis, since, as Ms. Brown stated at the beginning of the class, it smells like Amortentia with an undercurrent of your least favorite smell. It is prudent to know what Amortentia is like, and this is the safest way to learn all of its characteristics. Now! Who wants to go first?”

A Gryffindor, Sophie Roper, raised her hand confidently. Professor Black nodded at her, and she came forward to sniff at a vial. She said, “I smell salted caramel, limes, and dung bombs.” 

“Thank you, Ms. Roper. Please take your seat. Who would like to go next?”

A Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley raised his hand and at Professor Black’s nod came forward. 

“I smell scorgio, strawberry chapstick, bergamot, and rotting fish.” 

The rest of Harry’s classmates walked up, sniffed the vial, and reported their findings. Harry didn’t pay attention to them overly so (it felt almost like an invasion of privacy) except for Hermione’s (her’s was lemongrass, mint toothpaste, old books, and menstrual blood). 

Then it was his turn, and he ambled over to Professor Black. He smelled the potion and told the class that he smelled, “Green apples, dark chocolate, masala chai, ink, and vomit.”

Professor Black thanked him, and Harry took his seat, ignoring the Thoth-damned Minister’s heavy gaze. There were 10 minutes left in class, and Harry was praying that class passed without incident, but of course, it didn’t as the Minister decided to materialize and walk over to the front of the class, where Harry was sat. 

If Harry had less competent occlumency shields, he would have rolled his eyes so hard they would fall out of his head. But he didn’t, so he just narrowed his eyes and tightened up his shields. They weren’t good enough, though, to stop him from rolling his eyes at Hermione when the Minister opened his Hecate-damned mouth and started to spew dramatics and absurdities. 

“As you know,” the Minister stated, “I was the one to ban Amortentia, but it does have its uses. Tell me, Mr. Potter, why is that you smell what you do?” 

Harry internally groaned before politely replying, “I fail to see how that is any of your concern, Minister, and I ask that you respect my privacy.”

The Minister just raised an eyebrow and stood taller, but Harry was not cowed.

“I don’t see why you don’t wish to share with the class?” 

“Why I don’t wish to share my personal stories is, again, none of your concern.”

Then the Minister got angry. “You will tell me why you smell green apples, dark chocolate, masala chai, ink, and vomit, Mr. Potter.” 

Harry just stood up, put his hands on his desk, and hissed, long and slow. Well, he actually spoke parseltongue, if the Minister angrily hissing back was any sort of indication. 

“Why are you ssso obsesssssed with me??” Harry asked the Minister. 

The Minister’s face paled dramatically and quickly hissed back, “I didn’t know you were a Parsssselmage.” 

“I don’t advertisssse my sssskills, m’Lord.” 

The Minister let out a raspy, sibilant ki-ki-ki, and it took the class a few seconds to realize that the Minister was laughing. 

“I had forgotten ssssnakessss call me m’Lord.” 

“I am not a sssssnake, m’Lord.”

“But I am the older Parsssselmage, sssso you are automatically ssssubssservient to me, in a Parsssselmagic ssstandpoint. Now you have sssufficiently disssstracted me, but you will tell me why you ssssmell green applesssss, dark chocolate, massssala chai, ink, and vomit.” 

“And why sssshould I do that?”

“If you do, I will let you and your friendsssss be for 72 hours.” 

“Truly?” 

“I am a man of my word. Now, why do you sssssmell those?” 

“I ssssmell green applessss becaussssse of Draco, dark chocolate becausssse of Uncle Moony, massssala chai becausssse it’sss ssssoothing, ink becausssse of Hermione, and vomit becausssse of Jamessss.” 

“And who issss thissss… Jamessss?”

“Don’t play coy; it doessssn’t ssssuit a man of your ssssstatus.” 

“Ki-ki-ki, you are right. And you alssso lied about the ink.” 

“I didn’t lie; I jusssst omitted the whole truth. I think I’ll take my leave now. I have to get to class.” 

At that last statement, Harry grabbed his stuff and Hermione’s hand and dragged her out of the Potion’s classroom, leaving a stunned group of students behind. The Minister took a deep breath and swept out of the room, going straight to his office; he did, after all, make a promise. Harry groaned and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up almost vertically as Hermione patted his arm sympathetically. It wasn’t common knowledge that he was a Parselmage, but it wasn’t like he would receive negative backlash. Harry was more worried that all of his Merlin-be-damned secrets would get out before he finished his NEWTS. 

Thankfully, the Minister kept his promise, and Harry spent the rest of the day and the subsequent weekend blessedly Minister-free. He caught up on all his work, finished his assignments, studied ahead, and finally, finally, got started on his house project. Each house had a final project that students had to create to showcase their talents and skills: Hufflepuffs did service projects, Slytherins had ‘if I had to change the world’ proposals, Gryffindors did impossible tasks from a list (ranging from retrieving three fae fruits to finding Atlantis), and Ravenclaws did research projects. 

Innovation was the name of the game, and the winner from the end of the year fair received 1,500 ⅁ . Throughout the event, hundreds of Ministry officials from all different departments scouted for new ideas and promising candidates. It was a marvelous opportunity, and Harry had his eyes on one department specifically: the Department of Mysteries. 

You couldn’t apply to it. Instead, you had to be scouted at graduation, get one mastery and four years of experience or two masteries, and then go through the cryptic application process. Harry had only known two other people who had been scouted as Unspeakables, and he was determined to be the third. That’s why it was so important to do so well at the Novo Novus Showcase (especially given his status as the child of a war criminal). 

Harry didn’t know much about his housemates' projects, just enough to know what he shouldn’t do for his. He knew a little more about Hermione and Draco’s, but it was mostly cursory information rather than actual explanations. And anyway, it didn’t matter because Harry was much more focused on his own project: predicting chaos. In his youth, he had formed a fascination with predicting everything (hence why he took Arithmancy and Divination), and that had snowballed into a near obsession in predicting chaos. There were plenty of muggle studies on that sort of thing, but Harry wanted to know the true way to predict chaos, and that is why he needed to get scouted to become an Unspeakable. Being an Unspeakable would allow him to study chaos and eventually learn to predict it. 

But Harry was getting ahead of himself, so instead of musing what it would be like as an Unspeakable, Harry spent six hours researching alongside his fellow 7th years on his Novo Novus Showcase project. They didn’t talk the whole time, but there was a sense of companionship, and it was nice to research next to all his friends, with the only sounds being quills scratching and pages turning. 

The house-elves, bless them, brought up food and water during lunchtime, as they were accustomed to Ravenclaws elbow-deep in research, and knew that nothing could make them leave before they were done. Dinner, though, was a different story, and the house-elves gave them an hour's warning to wrap up before unceremoniously kicking them all out, to the amusement of the 1st years who had never seen anything like that before. 

At dinner, while eating the beef stew, rice, and fried plantains, Harry thought of his week, and it was quite the week. This was not how he expected his 7th year to go, but oh well, at least it was interesting. Pushing all thoughts of the Minister and the past week away, Harry tuned back into the conversation bouncing between his year mates and joined in the light-hearted teasing, joking, debates, and storytelling. 

When he was back in his room, he told Tom all about his research, and then they discussed the week and what to do when the 72 hours were up (it would be in the middle of Charms class). As always, Tom was remarkably helpful, and Harry was extremely glad he had Tom as a resource and a friend. 

Soon enough, though, he succumbed to sleep, and he slept till the next morning, unaware of what the future held for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Development!!! Harry is a lot more dangerous than the Minister thinks, and he's not afraid to crush whoever opposes him. Ruthlessness, in my opinion, is a very Ravenclaw trait, and Harry has spent years honing his knowledge and skills. He's also very, very ambitious, but it's knowledge-driven, and so... development!!
> 
> Some information:
> 
> tumus bene - a decontaminating cleaning charm.
> 
> The note Harry sent to Draco's rapist (retributum est peccatum) means retribution for sin, though I believe that was fairly obvious.
> 
> ⅁ - galleon (and for future reference, า - sickle and ᴎ - knut)
> 
> Novo Novus Showcase: New New Showcase literally, but it's more like New Creations Showcase.
> 
> I won't be going in-depth on chaos theory despite how fascinating I find it--I'm just not knowledgeable enough to fully understand it and then apply it to my headcanons of magic.
> 
> I also thought I’d let you know that if you notice any mistakes and discrepancies, please let me know (nicely) as I’m only a high school sophomore doing this in my free time without a beta, except for Grammarly which is a lifesaver.
> 
> And as always, thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> Come bother me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idkwhyiexist) and [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/mia_jade3)


	6. Cachinnate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just started cross-posting on Wattpad (under the pseudonym mia_jade3), so don't worry if you happen to see that. I will say, though, Wattpad is a PAIN to work with. AO3 is totally superior.

The next day, Harry was in his Dark Arts class and desperately regretting waking up in the morning. Breakfast had been fine, and so had Charms, but then he got to the DADA classroom and saw the blackboard with  _ Patronus Charm  _ written on it in blocky letters and the surprisingly visible Dark Lord in the back corner writing something on a long parchment. Harry sighed and dropped his forehead on Hermione’s shoulder. Draco just patted his head sympathetically and led them to a seat in the front of the classroom. 

  
  


“The  _ Patronus Charm, _ ” Professor Escrivá stated, rapping a knuckle on the blackboard, “Now, Mr. Finnegan, why are you learning this spell here, not in Charms class?” 

  
  


Seamus Finnegan cleared his throat before saying, “The  _ Patronus Charm  _ is used as a defense against Dark Creatures such as Dementors and Lethifolds, so it would fall under learning about the Dark Arts.” 

  
  


“Correct, but not exactly what I’m looking for. Ms. Dunbar, can you help him out?” 

  
  


The girl looked a little lost before hesitantly responding, “Because it’s a Dark Spell?” 

  
  


Professor Escrivá looked pleased and said, “Take three points, Ms. Dunbar. It is, actually, a Dark Spell. Mr. Macmillan, can you tell me why?”

  
  


“It is considered a Dark Spell because it relies on inner magic and is influenced by your emotions, even though you need to think happy thoughts.” 

  
  


“Take three points, Mr. Macmillan. As you learned back in your first year, Light Magic uses latent magic and intent. Grey Magic uses either latent magic and emotion or inner magic and intent, and Dark Magic uses inner magic and emotion. You will with Light Magic, but you have to want Dark Magic. To cast a  _ Patronus,  _ you cast with inner magic and emotion, making it a Dark Spell. Now, Ms. Greengrass, can you tell us the incantation for the  _ Patronus Charm _ ?” 

  
  


“Certainly, Professor Escrivá. The incantation is  _ expecto patronum. _ ”

  
  


“Wonderful, take three points. Mr. Malfoy, can you tell me the wand movement?” 

  
  
  


“Like the majority of Dark Spells, the  _ Patronus Charm _ doesn’t require a specific wand motion to cast a corporeal spell or mist, but to cast a shield, and you move it down and up in a U shape three times.” 

  
  


“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, take three points. For this class, you will practice the spell with a partner or partners of your choice. To cast, you must think of what makes you happiest, not just happy. By the end of class today, you should be able to cast the mist for an A, the shield for an EE, and a corporeal  _ Patronus  _ for an O. There will be a quiz about  _ Patronuses  _ on Thursday, and to get full marks, you will be expected to cast a corporeal  _ Patronus.  _ Now, get casting!”

  
  


Hermione, Harry, and Draco paired up, cast a privacy spell, and began brainstorming happy memories. They were soon cackling while reminiscing and were in the right headspace to learn the  _ Patronus Charm.  _

  
  


Hermione was the first to cast, and, thoughts filled with her two best friends, she cast, “ _ Expecto patronum!”  _

  
  


She only managed a thin stream of mist, but Harry and Draco clapped enthusiastically, and both tried at the same time. Harry cast a slightly larger stream of mist, but Draco didn’t cast anything at all. He did a second time. They all looked at each other excitedly and then giggled at their absurd enthusiasm (well, Hermione and Harry laughed, and Draco ‘chuckled’--he was the only one who giggled). 

  
  


Halfway through class, everyone had managed to cast the mist, and Harry, Draco, Hermione, Cho, Susan, Lavender, Blaise, Hannah, Greengrass, Nott, Weasley, Dunbar, and Jones had all managed to cast a shield. 

  
  


Susan was the first to cast a corporeal charm (unsurprisingly), and her shimmery, pale blue osprey dove across the room with fearlessness. Buoyed by her girlfriend’s success, Hannah Abbott called out, “ _ Expecto patronum! _ ” and cast a clumsy honey bear that clambered over towards Susan’s osprey and began to interact with it playfully. The class looked on with awe and doubled down and continued to cast their charms. 

  
  


By the end of class, Hermione had cast a sleek magpie and Draco an elegant Afghan hound. Cho’s  _ Patronus  _ turned out to be a graceful swan; Lavender’s a flitting kingfisher, Blaise’s a spotted hyena, Greengrass’ an intimidating polar bear, Dunbar’s an ambling fox, and Weasley’s a terrier dog of some sort. Right before class ended, Harry called out, “ _ Expecto patronum!”  _ and from the tip of his wand, a nimble, silvery impala galloped over to join Hermione’s magpie and Draco’s hound. The rest of the students had managed a shield and were told to practice till they could cast it for Thursday. 

  
  


They were all dismissed for their next class, and Professor Escrivá left with them to talk to Professor Vector. Halfway to the common room, Harry realized he had forgotten his textbook, so, waving away all his friends, he quickly walked back over to the DADA classroom. He quickly made his way back but froze at the sight in front of him. It was the Minister casting the  _ Patronus  _ charm. 

  
  


Harry silently stood in the doorway and watched as a massive three-headed serpent slithered out of the man’s wand. He smothered a gasp, and his eyes widened. To have a runespoor as  _ Patronuses  _ said quite a bit about the caster, and Harry didn’t know if he really wanted to think about what it meant as a representation of the Minister’s soul. (Though, Harry couldn’t help but recall that runespoors represented ambition, creativity, and vice. It meant that while the Minister was powerful and thoughtful and intelligent, his blind sightedness and dislike of criticism or you know, his conscious, would be his downfall.) 

  
  


Harry quickly summoned his DADA notes and fled down the hallway before the Minister noticed him, mind whirling, thoughts reeling. When he entered the Great Hall and joined his friends, though, he cleared his mind and moved his attention to the bouncing conversation about the usefulness of spatial transfiguration in duels. 

  
  


“It expends too much energy to transfigure your environment properly, not to mention the amount of concentration needed would be a monstrous disadvantage,” Sue argued. 

  
  


Cho countered, “Yes, but not every spell needs to be time, focus, and energy-intensive. You could quickly transfigure a thrown knife to butterflies or open up a hole in the ground. If you were outdoors, you could use the environment to your advantage!” 

  
  


“Exactly!” Anthony added before continuing, “You could change trees into beasts, vines into rope, soil into ice, sand to glass, the list goes on!”

  
  


“But should you not play to your strengths? And if you aren’t skilled enough with transfiguration, then you’d just make a fool of yourself and waste energy, but if you are, then that’s an advantage.” Marietta said in a placating way that only served to further the debate (which was her intention). 

  
  


When lunch was over, the debate was clearly not, so they put it on hold to go to their last class, but as soon as they got back into the common room, they resumed, and it only got more and more heated. By dinnertime, all of the 7th years had picked a side and were fiercely arguing their point. Sue, Harry, Hermione, Padma, Terry, Helen, Aaron, and Mandy argued how transfiguration was pointless and offered an opening while Cho, Draco, Anthony, Michael, Lisa, Maisy, and Jason maintained the position that it was extremely useful. Marietta assumed the role of the moderator as it was her turn this time. 

  
  


These types of debates were not just common; they were expected. Ravenclaws were constantly debating, educating themselves and others, and looking at things from new angles. It didn’t matter what everyone’s actual opinions were. You just debated whatever you felt like and tried to win. Despite the even number of students in their year, there was always a moderator to keep things from getting too heated. (This was a rule imposed since Rowena’s time to stop students from hexing each other to get their points across). 

  
  


Debates could go on for hours or even days, but thankfully Cho’s team won in time for them to go to bed at a reasonable hour (11 pm). When they all finished, Harry was brushing his teeth and pointedly not thinking about the Minister’s  _ Patronus.  _ When he was in his bed, in his pajamas, he took out the diary and started writing. 

  
  


**Good evening Tom!**

_ Good evening Harry, how was your day?  _

**It was pretty good. We learned about the Patronus Charm, and we had a debate about the merits of using Transfiguration in duels.**

_ That sounds eventful. How was the Minister?  _

**He was not that bad. I didn’t actually speak to him at all today.**

_ That’s wonderful, dove.  _

**I know, right! I had a peaceful day for once, and I cast a corporeal Patronus!**

_ Really?? _

**Yup! Guess what it was!**

_ Hmm. I don’t think it was an ocean animal or a bird.  _

**Correct.**

_ And I don’t think it’s a very small animal either.  _

**You are also correct.**

_ Is it a deer of some sort? That’s as close as I’m going to get.  _

**Bingo! It’s an impala.**

_ Now that’s interesting. I would have pegged you as a stag.  _

**Never. That’s James’ Patronus. I like the impala a lot, it really fits me.**

_ Makes sense. And of course, it fits you, it’s your Patronus.  _

**I know, I know. Can you cast a Patronus?**

_ Of course, I can, I’m insulted you would think otherwise.  _

**I am so sorry your majesty for offending your delicate sensibilities.**

_ I appreciate your apology, no matter how sarcastic it is.  _

**You’re such a drama queen. And what is your Patronus?**

_ I could tell you.  _

**I’m sensing an ‘or.’**

_ Correct! I could also show you.  _

**Of course, I wanna see! Show me!!**

  
  


As soon as Harry wrote the last exclamation mark, his consciousness was sucked into the diary and he was next to Tom, watching the memory. It was Tom, alone in what Harry assumed was the Wishing Room (for that was what the snakes called it) in sepia tones. The memory had an intense look on his face as he called out, “ _ Expecto patronum”  _ over and over. 

  
  


After several, long and painful minutes of watching the memory struggle, the memory took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and said, in a clear voice, “ _ Expecto patronum.” _

  
  


Harry let out a gasp as a fully corporeal  _ Patronus _ slithered out of the memory’s wand. Then his eyes narrowed as he realized what exactly the silvery blue, serpentine being was: a runespoor.

  
  


Harry paid no heed to the ending of the memory instead his mind was stuck on a loop of, “Why a runespoor??” 

  
  


When Harry returned to his body, he stared listlessly at the diary in his hands, thoughts whirling around, emotions a tangled, knotted mess. He noticed that Tom had written something, but he couldn’t focus his eyes on the words. Harry inhaled sharply and then read what Tom had written. 

  
  


_ What did you think? My Patronus is pretty spectacular, don’t you agree? _

**Tom, what can you tell me about matching Patronuses?**

_ Well that came out of nowhere but I do know some stuff, what do you want to know? _

**How common are matching patronuses?**

_ They’re very rare, dove, and reserved for romantic partners and family members.  _

**Well, Tom, please explain why you and the Minister have matching Patronuses.**

_ … _

**Well?**

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's why I picked everyone's Patronus: 
> 
> Harry - Impala (agile, graceful, adaptable, intelligent, honest, energetic, very cautious)
> 
> Hermione - Magpie (intelligent, perceptive, observational, willful, ambitious)
> 
> Draco - Afghan Hound (aristocratic, humorous, determined, intelligent, very protective)
> 
> Blaise - Hyena (cunning, motherly, hunters, familial, social, survivors)
> 
> Daphne - Polar Bear (adaptable, stubborn, cold, blunt, protective, motherly)
> 
> Susan - Osprey (passionate, admirable, unique, happy, ambitious, hard-working)
> 
> Hannah - Honey Bear (cheerful, confident, determined, familial, stubborn)
> 
> Fay - Fox (adaptable, clever, wily, exuberant, spirited, confident)
> 
> Lavender - Kingfisher (quick-witted, social, passionate, intelligent, individual) 
> 
> Ron - Jack Russel Terrier (canon Patronus)
> 
> Cho - Swan (canon Patronus)
> 
> I'm going to try and get the next chapter up quickly, but I make no promises. And, as always, thank you so, so much for reading!!
> 
> Come bother me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idkwhyiexist) and [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/mia_jade3)


	7. Expostulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The doc with all the chapters is over 100 pages and my notes doc (that has a list of the characters, the general outline, and a bunch of other stuff) is almost 20. And we're not even 10 chapters in :0 
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than usual, but I wanted to be mean and leave on a sort-of-cliffhanger so :)))

**Tom, I’m waiting.**

_I know, I’m just trying to figure out how to phrase this best. I never thought I’d have to tell you._

**Tell me what?**

_That I’m a Horcrux?_

**A what?**

_A Horcrux._

**I got that, but what is it?**

_It’s a soul container, to put it in simplistic terms._

**So you’re the minister???**

_Not exactly._

**Then how so??? I’m kind of freaking out here, so it would be nice if you hurried up your explanation instead of being all vague, Tom!!**

_I’m trying, Harry! Be patient._

**Excuse me?? You know what? I’m going to be gracious and ignore that so you can hurry up and fucking explain right now.**

_Merlin Harry. Okay, so basically in 6th, Tom Riddle, or as you know him, Minister Marvolo Peverell, opened the Chamber of Secrets and killed a muggle-born girl: Myrtle Warren. By doing so, he split his soul in half and placed me in the diary. I ensure his immortality, but there are more Horcruxes._

**How many are there?**

_There are seven soul pieces: him, me, the Ravenclaw Diadem, the Hufflepuff Goblet, the Slytherin locket, the Gaunt ring, and his snake, Nagini._

**So are you him?**

_Not quite. I am him at age 16. I have his memories, hopes, fears, and dreams from birth to when he split his soul. After that, he became a different person, and I stayed stagnant until you came along. I am him at 16 but with your influence. He is his own person, and I am mine. All we share is a soul._

**Does he know where you are? It seems a little irresponsible for you to be in my hands.**

_Good point. From my understanding, he left me with the Malfoy’s, and Lucius gave it to Ginevra Weasley under the influence of the Malfoy-Weasley family feud._

**And then I snatched it up from her, so the Minister has no idea you’re with me.**

_Yes._

**Does he know where the other Horcruxes are?**

_Yes. Well, where they should be._

**Where are they?**

_So the Diadem is in the Wishing Room of Lost Things at Hogwarts, the Cup is in the Lestrange Vault, the Ring is in the Gaunt Manor, the Locket is in a cave Nagini is in his home, though I do not know the exact locations of it._

**Can you communicate with him?**

_No, but I can communicate with the other Horcruxes._

**Does the soul split in half each time?**

_Yes._

**So he’s only 1.5625% of a soul?**

_Yes._

**Why are you not the most powerful fraction since you’re the biggest?**

_I am the most powerful, but I am also physically and magically 16, and I am still a Horcrux._

**Is there any way to make you the main soul piece?**

_Yes, but I would require another Horcrux and a large blood or magic sacrifice._

**I don’t know how to feel about this, Tom.**

_I know._

**You should have told me.**

_I should have._

**I should be mad.**

_Emotions don’t have a ‘should,’ Harry._

**I know. But I still feel like I should be mad. But I’m not. I’m just.**

_Just?_

**I’m just tired and a little hurt you didn’t trust me.**

_I’m sorry._

**I know.**

_And I do trust you; I just didn’t know how to tell you._

**I get that. That doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt.**

_I understand. I think I’m going to let you process this, so goodnight, dove._

**Goodnight kitten.**

  
  


At that, Harry snapped the diary shut and slid it under his pillow. He took off his glasses and tiredly rubbed his eyes. Shucking off the blanket he was wrapped in, Harry twisted his legs into a crisscrossed position and began meditating. In and out. In and out. His chest rose and fell as his lungs expanded and deflated in slower and slower beats. 

  
  


Harry started from the very beginning of the day, pulling up the memory of waking up and breakfast. He let the chill of early morning, the scent of tea, and the taste of bitter grapefruit wash over him but quickly discarded the memory, filing it in its proper place on the bookshelf, labeled with the date and contents in parselscript. Harry recalled the next memory, Charms class, and spent time filing away each new charm and academic information he learned in their proper shelves before putting away that one too. 

  
  


Harry spent a little more time on the DADA memory, cataloging information about the _Patronus Charm_ and the forms his friends and classmates had. He transferred the knowledge of the forms to each of the books on each person he knew, and the facts on _patronuses_ themselves were moved to a new book on his charms shelf. By the time that was done, Harry had entirely left his body and was in his happy-fuzzy-not-entirely-aware headspace when not focused on his maze-library-mind space. It took little effort to bring forth memories, but it would take insurmountable exertion to move his body without damaging his mind, which was why it was so important to not be in a vulnerable space. 

  
  


Harry disregarded that line of thought in favor of bringing forth the next memory: the Minister’s _Patronus_ form. He quickly filed that away, moved onto lunch, then Transfiguration, then the debate, and finally dinner. Usually, he didn’t have to do all this work; it ordinarily did it itself, but with his mind shields newly rebuilt, Harry had to help all the functions run properly (cataloging information, filing memories, etc.). 

  
  


He was stalling. 

  
  


Harry breathed deeply before calling up the final memory: talking with Tom. He skipped through the platitudes, small talk, and talk of _patronuses_ and went straight to the talk on Horcruxes. Oh, Sweet Circe, Horcruxes. 

  
  


He had heard about them once or twice before; the Potter library was a lot darker than one would think, but it was mostly as examples of Black Magic (not Dark, Black) and that you should never, ever use them. Harry scraped the bottom of his mind for any information on them, but all he found was what Tom had told him, a couple of warnings, and one vaguely chronicled tale on Herpo the Foul. Otherwise, he didn’t have much to go on. Filing that on a brand new shelf, Harry moved onto the more _emotional_ aspect of the memory. 

  
  


Harry approached the tangle of emotions and pulled at a dark blue thread. Betrayal. Harry straightened it out and laid it down before pulling the next ones apart. An olive green exhaustion, a mustard yellow confusion, a crimson red hurt, and a greyish purple irritation. He untangled it all and held each thread, letting the emotion wash over him, before walking over to a magnificent loom with a stunning tapestry being woven right before his mind’s eye. Harry wound the individual threads onto their same-color spools and stepped back, watching the tapestry evolve right before his eyes. 

  
  


Both his emotions and his thoughts, memories, and information had to be put somewhere in his mindscape. While the idea of a library came immediately, Harry took longer to figure out what to do with his emotions. He disliked the idea of keeping them in the same place, so Harry bounced between idea and idea on where to place his emotions. He stumbled upon the idea of putting his emotions in a tapestry when Hermione talked about how sewing and other art projects helped calm her down, and Draco agreed, talking about his needlepoint with his mother and how it always soothed him and provided structure. Potter Manor was decorated with tapestry after tapestry, so it wasn’t hard to make the leap and put two and two together. 

  
  


Ah, he was getting semantic with all this rumination. Harry left his emotion tapestry to expand and grow and walked up the stairs back into the realm of the living. He braced himself as all the physical feelings (chilly air, heavy breathing, itchy blanket) returned, and he waited out the disorientation till he was in full possession of his facilities. Harry cast a _tempus,_ and his eyes widened at the late (or early hour). He’d be lucky to get four hours of sleep! Oh well, he thought, before crawling back under the covers and falling into a deep, relaxed sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I added chapter names of cool words I've collected over the years, just cause, so let me know what you think! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a great day!!
> 
> Leave a comment or come bother me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idkwhyiexist) and [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/mia_jade3) if you'd like!


	8. Ameliorate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers!! I hope you had a wonderful holiday season/new year and are doing well! This chapter is a lot longer than last time's to make up for it, hopefully. I've created a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4L9RvcbxOfsFKTdRi84qk7?si=4FfmaT02Tt2p1MlUjGg9lA), so check that out if you want! 
> 
> C/W: vague references to panic attacks and past non/con, and talk of teen pregnancy in a gossipy sort of way.

Harry woke up the next morning, feeling not right. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he felt, but his skin was crawling, and it was a little hard to breathe. Stretching his limbs, he tried to get his mind off of the strange, oppressive cloud fogging up everything. Harry groaned as he remembered they had Potions today. He tiredly rubbed his eyes till white-hot dots swam, and he felt a little more in control. He sighed, and then again. Thankfully Michael and Terry were already up and more worried about getting themselves ready - small mercies. Harry headed down to breakfast with Draco and Hermione, waving away their concern, instead, focusing on eating his grits and sugar (a very delicious breakfast a Hufflepuff, Aquila Yates, who was a transfer from Ilvermorny, taught him). He also focused on clearing his mind and on the new debate: whether agrimony or hawthorn was better in blood-replenishing potions. 

Eventually, they all had to head to their classes, so they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways; Harry with Hermione, Maisy, Anthony, and Terry. Harry prayed to Mother Magic, Morgana, and all the powers above that the Minister wasn’t going to be in his Potions class - just this once. Alas, his prayers were left unanswered, and the Minister was sitting on one of the observing benches, scrawling away with a quill. Harry audibly groaned, and Maisy patted his shoulder in commiseration, but they had class, so they focused on Professor Black, who was writing instructions on the blackboard. Once everyone was seated at each of the tables - individually in this class - Professor Black greeted them. 

“Hello Professor Black,” they all chorused back.

“Today, we will be testing our Amarenovis and then going over what we did and how we can improve. I know you did this in partners, but you will be graded and assessed individually due to the sensitive nature of Amortentia and Amarenovis. In the meantime, you will be working on the potion written on the board. I will be calling you individually, and you will switch potions with the person called before you when it is your turn. This potion will be graded, so obviously, try your best. Now, first up for Amarenovis, Terry Boot.” 

At that, Terry walked over to Professor Black’s office, where a ministry official - Madame Spinstra, the only person legally allowed to touch Amortentia - was waiting. 

Harry turned his attention to the blackboard where the instructions for Pellisseatio, or more commonly known as Pink Skin Draught, were and went to his cubby to grab: 

[18 g] Purpura Brassica, Crushed 

[3 mL] Poppy Seed Oils

[6 g] Arachnanutmeg, Finely Ground

[12 g] Dragon Fruit Gnats, Whole

[24 g] Io Tongue, Evenly Chopped

[15 mL] Dawn Orchid Nectar

Before he did any potion-making, Harry set up his cauldron, knives, the salt mortar and pestles, measured out all his ingredients, chopped the Io tongue with a copper knife, and crushed his purpura brassica. Then he was finally ready to start making the actual potion, so in a brass cauldron, Harry poured 300 mL of Standard Potioning Water and the flame onto medium. He cast _repretor_ and waited till his water was at 99 C º and then carefully measured out a third of the purpura brassica into the water and stirred three times counterclockwise, three seconds between each turn. He repeated those steps methodically and precisely till all the purpura brassica was in the potion. 

Harry had six minutes for the next step, so he quickly but carefully poured six grams of the dragon fruit gnats into the mortar and crushed them into a fine powder. He then waited for the last two minutes and then turned on the hot flame and unceremoniously dumped the dragon fruit gnat powder into the cauldron. Harry turned the flame back to low and waited for 12 minutes. While he waited, Harry looked around the room and noticed that Finch-Fletchley was in the room, and Lavender looked more than a little queasy. 

Harry was glad he was towards the end of the class, and it was likely he would finish and be able to get a head start on his homework, but he was getting ahead of himself, so he focused back on his potion, and as the _tempus_ just ran out, he stirred three times, clockwise. Then, one by one, he dropped the rest of the dragon fruit gnats into the potion every three seconds, stirring 1 time in between counterclockwise. 

Once finished, he added the 24 grams of Io tongue and stirred 3 times clockwise. Harry then mixed the poppy seed Oil and dawn orchid nectar and poured it into the cauldron, turning the flame onto low. He took his mind off his prickling neck and stirred 3 times counterclockwise. Harry turned the flame off and let the potion sit off the flame for 3 minutes and 6 seconds. It was a matte, vibrant teal blue with little black speckles, and if he did it correctly when he sprinkled the arachnanutmeg on top, it would turn brilliant oily chartreuse. He watched the last seconds tick down, sprinkled the arachnanutmeg on top, and watched with bated breath as the potion swirled into the exact right color - just the slightest bit less oily than it probably should be. 

Harry let out a sigh of relief at the correctness and perfect timing because an embarrassed Chandan Moreau (a Slytherin who Harry had hooked up with at the end of last year, though Chandan was probably more embarrassed about the Amortentia incident than Harry’s blow job). Harry smiled gratefully at Chandan and walked over to the room, feeling like he was walking to his execution. 

When he got into the room, Professor Black smiled at him kindly, but Harry was only focused on the Minister. Rage crested in him, and he rudely asked, “What are you doing here??” 

The Minister just smirked as Harry began to spiral. He _knew_ what Amortentia could do, and he began to panic. To his credit, as soon as Harry looked _scared_ (not angry, irritated, mad, frustrated), the Minister looked worried. Professor Black stepped forwards and began to soothe Harry. He said, “Harry, I need you to calm down for me; I understand that you have had a bad experience with Amortentia, but all of us are legally mandated to not take advantage of you, and if you really can’t do it - Ms. Granger couldn’t, and neither could Mr. Malfoy - I perfectly understand, and I will just grade based on the physical characteristics.” 

Harry shoved himself out of his mind-space back into his body and nodded, mumbling, “I really don’t want to do it, Professor.”

Professor Black smiled encouragingly but stiffened when the temperature dropped, and Minister Peverell calmly asked, in an eerie way, “Pray tell, what is this bad experience?” 

Harry snarled, “I don’t see how that is any of your business,” putting emphasis on each word, enunciating crisply, anger sharp and cutting. 

Unfortunately, the Minister was undeterred by Harry’s anger and asked again, the room's edges freezing over. Professor Black, sensing how dangerous the situation was getting, said in a way that belied his anxiousness, “Minister Peverell, perhaps you are familiar with the Vivian Penmark case?” 

The Minister paused and shuffled through the files in his mind, searching for Vivian Penmark when he got to the file, red hot anger, like fire and brimstone, burned through his core. 

That didn’t show in his voice when he said, “I believe I am, though, from my understanding, you are not one of her victims.” 

“I was not, but Draco was.” 

“Ah right, you gave statements,” the Minister said, distractedly, still leafing through his mental file. 

The Minister continued, “I wonder what happened to her, though.” 

Both the Minister and Harry looked up sharply when Professor Black snorted at that statement. 

Harry slyly said, “Professor Black, I hope you aren’t insinuating anything.” 

“It would be remiss of me to do so; after all, you were only a little third year.” 

Harry huffed and said, “Exactly, I was only a little third year. I could barely cast _accio._ ” 

The Minister’s eyes widened at the implications. Thankfully, Madame Spinstra, who they had all forgotten, was watching the students, not wanting to interfere with whatever the Minister was doing. Harry cast _tempus_ and, noticing the time, thanked Professor Black and went to tell Maisy that it was her turn, leaving a stunned Minister behind. 

Since his potion was finished and Chandan (Hecate bless him) had cleaned up for him, Harry told Roper that it was her turn and went over to Hermione. In hushed tones, he explained what had just happened. Hermione’s eyes grew wider and wider as Harry quickly spoke, and when he finished, she tiredly rubbed her eyes and stuck her hands in her hair. She sighed and patted his head before handing him a quill and parchment and saying, “Well, there’s nothing we can do about that, so let’s just do homework.” 

Harry chuckled - that was such a Hermione thing to say, so he just smiled and started writing his fifteen inches on the uses of purpura brassica. Hermione worked on their other assignment (the long, six-sheave essay on the magical differences between Amortentia and Amarenovis). There were only 10 minutes left of class, so they only finished their outlines, but it did give them both something to focus on, so by the time they exited the class, their minds were ready to focus on their next classes: Alchemy for Harry, Runes for Hermione.

They hugged and then went their separate ways, Harry walking with Lavender, Hermione with Nott, who always walked her to Runes. Harry chatted with Lavender about their essays and what they had so far, sources, outlines, and the like, until they got to Alchemy, where they joined Padma and Pavarti and changed the subject to something more inclusive. They all gossiped till Master Brewer Fleming strode in and began to lecture. The class took notes for the first 100 minutes, and the next 100 minutes were focused on brainstorming for their whole year research project (there were an absurd amount of research projects this year, now that Harry was thinking about it). Harry really wasn't sure what he wanted to do and still had no concrete idea by the end of class, so that was his homework. 

He left the class feeling very unsatisfied, so throughout lunch, he brainstormed with Pavarti and came up with his final idea: Alchemy and its applications to limb regeneration. It wasn’t his best idea, but it was interesting and would pose a big challenge, so Harry was pretty happy with it. He was also happy with his vegetable stew and the baguette he snatched up from the Slytherin table while passing on gossip to Pansy. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur (from finishing up lunch to gossiping in Arithmancy with Pansy and Marietta while doing hieroglyphic hextangles to practically screaming at Sue about whether names or intent was more important in spell crafting). Soon enough, he was sitting in his bed, the curtains drawn, quill in hand, staring at the black journal in front of him. It took him a good seven minutes to gather up the courage, but eventually, he wrote out a simple: 

**Hello Tom.**

_Hello Harry. How was your day?_

**It was pretty good. I almost had a meltdown in Potions, I figured out my Alchemy research question (how does Alchemy affect limb regeneration), and I found out that the 6th year Gryffindor Judith Jacobson is pregnant. She doesn't know who the father is.**

_While that is all very interesting, I am wondering most about the first thing you mentioned. Care to explain?_

**It’s the Amortentia/Amarenovis unit in potions, and the Minister sort of/sort of didn't find out about the monster.**

_Ah. I can see why that would be an issue. No legal ramifications, though?_

**No, he was most shocked, but I’ve already been tried under veritasium, so they can’t try me again.**

_Right. Now, about the other stuff, you told me?_

**Well, I can tell you about my research project later when I’ve actually researched it. But I can totally tell you all about Judith Jacobson and that whole mess.**

_Please do._

**Of course. Now. Judith Jacobson (Gryffindor, Year 6, sixteen years old, mundane born) forgot to use protection charms and is now 4 months pregnant. She doesn’t want to abort it but doesn’t know who the father is. According to her, the only boys she saw over the summer were Kylan Preston (Hufflepuff, Year 6, sixteen years old, mundane born) and Lucien Rafferty (Slytherin, Year 6, seventeen years old, half-blood). So, it wouldn’t be as big an issue as it is if…**

_Don’t leave me hanging!_

**...If Rafferty’s mother wasn’t the head of the DoIMC and his father wasn’t a decorated auror. And Jacobson wasn’t, you know, a no-name mundane born with 4 OWLS and looking at 2 NEWTS.**

_Oh how intriguing._

**I know, right??**

_You must keep me updated about this._

**I will, and they’re going to do a paternity test in two months, so everyone will know by then.**

_Definitely let me know who the father is. Now, have you thought about what I told you?_

**I have.**

_And…?_

**And I want to make you the main soul so you can replace the Minister.**

_Wait, for what._

**I said what I said.**

_I know that, but you’re really okay with the whole Horcrux thing?_

**I mean, not really, but it isn’t your fault, and you don’t owe me anything, so we’ll be cool in a couple of days.**

_That’s. That’s good to hear. Now, why do you want to make me the main soul piece?_

**Easy. I hate the Minister, and I love you.**

_That does make sense._

**Of course, it does. Now, how do we do that?**

_There is a Horcrux in the Room of Requirement._

**Room of Requirement?**

_Come and Go Room, the Wishing Room, the Room of Lost Things - it goes by many names. The important thing is that you get the Horcrux in there._

**I know that room, so what’s the Horcrux?**

_The Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw._

**You’re fucking with me.**

_I am most definitely not._

**Morgana’s tits, Tom. What the fuck??**

_I know, I know, but you can process this later. What I need you to do tomorrow, during your free day, is go there and find the Diadem, and then I will tell you the ritual. But whatever you do, do NOT put the Diadem on. Got it?_

**Got it.**

_Now, you need your sleep if this is what we’re going to do tomorrow, so good night, dove._

**Alright, this is a lot to process, so good night, kitten.**

_Ugh, that INFERNAL NICKNAME!!_

  
  


At that, Harry shut the book and slid it back under his pillow. He absentmindedly checked on his mind-space functions and settled down to do the same thing he did last night: run through, file, and weave all his memories and emotions. Soon enough, he finished, just in time to get an actual good night of sleep. He fluffed his pillows, messed with his blankets, and curled up on his side. Harry exhaled and stretched out his limbs, trying his hardest to find a comfortable position, but to no avail; his mind and body were racing, reacting to all the new information he received. 

  
  


Harry sighed and sat back up, shucking off his blankets - it looked like he would have to file everything manually, so that’s what he did. He went through memory after memory, cataloging, filing, and shelving each piece of information. Harry wove his emotions of the day (icy, cold, blue fear, maroon shame, chestnut brown fondness, lime green satisfaction) into the tapestry, and took a step back, really looking at his emotions. It was a marvelous piece of fabric, stretching eons, rippling with magic, the loom moving by itself, weaving spools of thousands of different colors. Blues, purples, reds, and greens overtook the tapestry with threads of rose gold love and deep, charcoal black hatred forming geometric patterns throughout. 

  
  


Looking at the tapestry gave Harry a sense of pride, and it was with that sense of pride that he finally fell asleep, safe in the soft cocoon of his mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some info: 
> 
> repretor - temperature checking spell  
> Like with the Amarenovis, I did make up the Pellisseato potion, so please use it if you want, and tag me if you'd like (I just want to see your cool works :P). 
> 
>   
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!! Leave a comment and come bother me on my 'everything' [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idkwhyiexist) and my tomarry aesthetic [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/crimsonpoppies) if you'd like!


	9. Diatribe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! I hope you're doing well!! I am back with another chapter (very late due to finals week, I apologize), and this one is pretty heavy on the world/ritual building, so these are all my headcanons, stuff I picked up from other fics/tumblr, and ancient alphabets! Slight T/W for self-harm (scratching and ritual based blood-letting). More info on the ritual is at the end! 
> 
> Also, this chapter was hardddd to not make into tomarry T-T so I just based it on seeing my best friend after a very long time (I've never been far away from my brother for very long). I hope it doesn't come off as too shippy. 
> 
> Without further ado, onto the chapter!

After dragging himself through his morning routine and picking at his scrambled eggs, Harry tried desperately to get away from his friends. They _knew_ his preferred way of being dealt with when in a bad mood was constant presence and companionship, so it was getting quite annoying trying to get space away from Hermione and Cho -- they just wouldn’t let him be. He’d be grateful if it were any other time (especially since when he was younger and in a bad headspace, he would scratch, scratch, scratch till he bled). 

Eventually, he told them straight up it wasn’t anything personal, he just needed to be alone, and they hesitantly agreed and let him be. Harry went up to his room as quickly as possible, grabbed the diary and his invisibility cloak, and went to the Wishing Room. Pacing back and forth, he wished very, very hard for a room of lost things, and soon enough, a door appeared. Objects of all shapes, sizes, and colors were piled up to the ceiling, precariously balanced and one misstep away from an avalanche. Harry took a deep breath and called out, “ _Designandum me, invenient me: vultus pro me_ Ravenclaw’s Diadem.” 

The spell he used was an ancient one, known to Ravenclaws exclusively, and could be used to find Rowena Ravenclaw’s relics within a certain distance (though nobody knew precisely what distance it was). Harry let out an elated yelp when he felt a tug towards further in the room, and he all but sprinted to the diadem. Then he laid his eyes on the half-crown, and oh _Merlin,_ it felt good to see that -- not because he needed it as a Horcrux, but as a Ravenclaw. He first cast detection charm after detection charm and carefully tugged away from the strands of evilness intertwined with the blue blue _blue_ magic of the diadem. It took almost an hour of intense concentration, but oh, Mother Magic, Merlin, and Morgana had he done it! There was still the Horcrux, but there were no curses whatsoever. 

Harry gleefully picked it up with reverence, tucked it carefully into his satchel bag, put on his cloak, and headed to the Chamber of Secrets. He had a quick conversation with Myrtle and paid his respects to Aquitaine the basilisk, but otherwise, he made his way down to the ritual room quickly. 

Standing in the open room filled Harry with a sense of wonder, but he had no time to spare, so he quickly opened up his satchel and took out white chalk. On the stone floor, he drew a heptagon, straight lines crisscrossing all the way through, continually referencing the diagram and instructions Tom had written in the diary. After setting up the general shape, he summoned the basalt, letting his magic permeate the air. Harry took the basalt and meticulously sprinkled it over the pre-drawn lines. He dared not breathe as he evenly distributed it all and only did so when he had completely finished, taking a steep breath and inhaling harshly. 

The next step was far easier: setting up the white candles. Harry cast extremely overpowered sticking charms, so the magic spilled over, tacky and gummy like glue paste, and set the candles at the vertices. 

Harry retrieved a sharp iron blade from a hidden pocket in his satchel and grabbed the glass bowl he had stashed in there as well. Chanting, “ _Sacrificium pro te mihi,”_ he slit his palms and squeezed so that the blood dripped into the bowl in a steady stream. Harry winced at the burn and then the aggravation of his wound, but he ground his molars and continued till he had filled the bowl half-way. After, he let his magic wash over the wounds, mending, stitching, cleaning, and seeping into the air. It was imperative to imbue magic into the ritual room as it hadn’t been used since he discovered it in the middle of his fifth year, and as everyone knows, rituals harness latent magic. 

He shook off that thought path and refocused on the cooling blood in the bowl. Harry took a breath and steadily poured the blood on the chalk runes and anchor points. Blood smeared on the Teth rune, so Harry waved a hand, and it was back to picture-perfect. He continued pouring the blood till he drained the bowl of its last dregs and could stand back and look at his work with satisfaction. Oh, how Moony would be proud of him. Harry sighed before getting back to work. He summoned the vial of hyacinth tears and poured them in the Ayin runes, careful not to get it on the blood. Finally, he was done setting up, and it was time for him to proceed with the actual ritual. 

He read, re-read, and re-read again the information Tom had written, memorizing all the different chants. When he was confident in his memory, he put the diary and the diadem in the center of the Teth rune, took a deep breath, and summoned his wand. Waving it in the same pattern as the Teth rune, he chanted, “ _Restituere, vivifica, renovare._ ”

And then backward, “ _Eravoner, acifiviv, ereutitser._ ”

Harry kept chanting, forwards and backward, over and over, watching as the diadem began to shake and vibrate, a storm grey shade slowly coming out. The shade flickered in and out of existence, and began to absorb the blood, sated like a cat drinking warm milk. It had consumed all of the blood except for the Ayin runes and was a solid near-black color when Harry changed the chant. 

“ _Rursus ab aeterno in aeternum!”_ Harry canted, almost shouting, and the shade greedily absorbed the Ayin runes but shrieked when it drank the hyacinth tears too. It tried to stop, but Harry just chanted louder, letting his magic flow through the basalt, forcing the shade to absorb the tears. Harry knew his face was damp with sweat and tears from exertion, and the screams and wails the shade emitted were horrendous, but Harry compartmentalized and renewed his focus on the ritual. 

When the shade absorbed the last of the hyacinth tears, Harry poured his magic into the air, corralling the shade into the diary. It shrieked and screamed, and when Harry heard Tom scream too, he almost faltered, but he kept going until the wailing stopped and a strange feeling of _rightness_ filled the room. 

Harry pulled back his magic and carefully prodded the diary when a tall man about 20 suddenly appeared, landing on the floor. Scrambling back, both the man and Harry panted, chests heaving in sync. Then the man looked at Harry and _fuck._ It felt like coming home after years and burrowing your face in the pillows and oh _Morgana._ Harry jumped up and ran over into Tom, sending them both sprawling. 

Tom threw his head back and laughed, hugging Harry tightly, still lying on the cold stone. 

“It feels good to hug you, dove.” 

Harry mumbled something unintelligible into Tom’s linen shirt, and Tom just laughed again. 

‘C’mon, up you go,” Tom said, shoving Harry off and then offering him a hand. 

Harry gave Tom a roguish smile, wrinkled his nose, and launched himself at Tom -- like a snidget! 

Peals of laughter rang out in the chamber as they clambered over each other, roughhousing and ruffling hair, reveling in the ability to touch each other for the first time. They would need to plan grand schemes and minute details soon enough, but for now, time stood still just long enough for the two of them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some info:  
>    
> [image of the ritual](https://idkwhyiexist.tumblr.com/post/642514722691874816/ritual-for-my-fic)
> 
> Why I used everything - 
> 
>   
> Heptagon - 7 is the most powerful magic number 
> 
> Basalt Sand - Stabilizer (Basalt represents stability and steadfastness) 
> 
> White Candle - Purity and Cleansing (from Pagan religions) 
> 
> Hyacinth Tears - Remorse (because that's how you put a Horcrux back) 
> 
> Harry’s Blood - Sacrifice 
> 
> Iron Knife - Tenacity and Strength
> 
> Sacrificium pro te mihi - My sacrifice for you
> 
> Restituere, vivifica, renovare - Restore, revive, renew
> 
> Runes - Teth ⊕(unknown, Phoenician), Peh ๅ(mouth, symbolic for the mind, Phoenician), Ayin O (eye, symbolic for the soul, Phoenician), Cewa п (chest, symbolic for the heart, made up) 
> 
>   
> I hope you liked this chapter, and if you did please leave a comment or come bother me on [my personal tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idkwhyiexist) and [my tomarry tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/crimsonpoppies)!


	10. Undine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so late, not only was this chapter so hard to write and I'm sure the pacing/writing is strange, but real life was kicking my ass. I'm no good at writing filler chapters, but I really needed this to be a filler chapter because that makes sense within the story arc: hence my struggle. (Also school is so much fun.) But enough of my complaining and onto the chapter!

Yesterday had been quite exhausting emotionally, physically, and magically, so it was no surprise that Harry slept like the dead, and barely woke up in time for breakfast the next morning. He did, though, which was the important part. And, he woke up just in time -- and refreshed enough -- to cause absolute chaos. He did so, by quickly getting ready for the day, and shoving Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem that hadn’t been seen in centuries into his school bag. Harry then proceeded to get to breakfast, sit down right next to Luna, and place the Diadem on Luna’s head, right next to her massive Queen Alexandra butterfly hairpins. 

  
  


To say the reaction was extreme would be a charitable understatement. As soon as Hermione and Michael caught a glimpse of it, they practically screamed, and news spread like wildfire. People were shouting, crying, and hyperventilating. It was complete pandemonium and Harry sat back on his bench and smiled. That smile quickly turned into a forced one, when he felt the Minister’s burning stare. Didn’t the man have a job and whatnot?? Why was he here still?? Harry wanted to cry at the Minister’s overbearingness, and his own stupidity -- now the Minister knew someone (specifically Harry) was after his Horcruxes. 

  
  


Merlin, Harry felt dumb. 

  
  


He had to push that all to the side when people badgered him for answers -- not that he gave them any -- but he still had to turn them away and smile secretively. Thank Mother Magic and Morgana that class was in five minutes, so he used that as an excuse to all but sprint to his Charms class. Charms class was a welcome respite from the uproar at breakfast as Professor Flitwick would not have anything disrupt learning. The previous class had been a lecture, so now it was time for the practical. 

  
  


“Pair up to work on gravitational charms,” Professor Flitwick said to the whole class, voice amplified by a  _ sonorous.  _

  
  


Harry and Millicent Bulstrode had partnered up to practice  _ ascendio _ ,  _ decendio _ , and  _ vecendio _ , which were a powerful lifting charm, the companion lowering charm, and the version of  _ ascendio _ that worked similarly to apparition, respectively. As these were spells that covered quite a bit of area, each group of two was in their assigned pocket dimension, where gravity could be altered to better practice each charm (one never knew when they would have to cast a  _ vecendio _ in 187.92  m/s 2 gravity). 

  
  


After that class was DADA, where Professor Escrivá lectured on decapitation spells and their counterspells. It was really quite interesting, even though there were very few real-world applications for decapitation spells; much too messy and uncontrollable. She demonstrated a particularly gruesome one right before class ended, so the group of students left for lunch more than a little queasy. 

  
  


Lunch was yet more mayhem, so Harry skipped it entirely and hung out in the library until it was time for Transfiguration. He finished some of the Charms homework and felt quite accomplished when he walked into Professor McGonagall’s class. Harry’s good mood was dashed by the magically taxing subject they were practicing: human to stone to human transfiguration. He wasn’t the only one who had trouble with the subject since Helen Dawlish, Gregory Goyle, Hannah Abbot, and Vincent Crabbe all had to be sent to the Hospital Wing. The whole mess of the Diadem hadn’t died down by dinner, and it didn’t die down until the weekend when a much more juicy topic was unearthed. Aaron Woodbridge, a 7th year Ravenclaw, and Astoria Greengrass, a 6th year Slytherin were outed as having a pixie dust and blue genie elixir (along with other drugs) smuggling rings, bringing great shame to their families. 

  
  


Daphne wasn’t seen the whole weekend and the following Monday and Tuesday, and Pansy, the notorious gossip that she was, refused to talk about it. News still spread, of course, and as the names of their associates were leaked, the severity of the situation grew. In raids looking at the friends of the two already caught, Romilda Vane, a 6th year Gryffindor was caught trying to dispose of Amortentia ingredients with her friend Leanne Maxwell, and Morsen Johnson, a 5th year Hufflepuff was caught with three kilos of tobacco-grade Alihotsy and a sack of Galleons. All five of them were looking at three years in Sential Prison at minimum, and two years in Azkaban at maximum. 

  
  


It was all anyone could talk about for weeks to come, and Harry quickly informed Tom, who was quite morbidly impressed and enraged. Aurors had flooded Hogwarts, and the students, and the teachers, were all in a muted frenzy. By the time Harry had classes again, and the weekend was over, he had heard thousands of theories, had been questioned by dozens of Aurors and was truly disappointed. These students had decided to throw away their futures in exchange for what, money? The thrill? The Greengrass name had been dragged through the mud -- it was worth less than a first-generation mundane-born. They were all looking at prison sentences, and that would likely mar their record for the rest of their lives. The rewards were meaningless when those five students began to face the consequences of their actions. 

  
  


Harry eventually put it all behind him, and the rest of the school as well, to focus on his education. He brewed Veratiserum in Potions class, well, the beginnings of it, as the potion took a full lunar cycle to brew. Harry had worked himself into a loop for his Novo Novus project, so he mail-ordered some muggle books, but he had much more luck starting out his Alchemy project on limb regeneration. It was a surprisingly undersaturated topic, so Harry had a lot of wiggle room to test out his hypothesis and other ideas. Hermione had been quite giggly as of late which was both amusing and confusing -- of the three of them, Draco was the giggler. Lots of Ravenclaws had been giggly, now that Harry thought about it. Oh well, it wasn’t any of his business. 

  
  


The minister, on the other hand, was an oppressive, and depressive force in the castle. As the days counted down to Samhain, his presence lessened, though, which Harry thanked all the powers above for. Harry really had to focus on midterms (specifically in Transfiguration, Alchemy, and Arithmancy). He also focused on self-studying for Runes and Magical Theory which were both incredibly beneficial classes to take, and NEWTS to have if one wanted to be an Unspeakable like Harry. 

  
  


Day after day passed by, Charms, Potions, DADA, Alchemy, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, one after another. Assignment, after assignment, spell after spell. Harry went through sheaves of parchment and dozens of quills as the school year progressed. He couldn’t wait till the next break -- yet he also dreaded it with every fiber of his being, because Harry knew he would be expected back home. For the next break was Samhain. Day of remembrance. Day of the dead. 

  
  


So Harry crossed each day off the calendar and lit candles for patience and good luck. Class, after class, after class; three, two, one. 

  
  


Samhain. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Information: 
> 
> Sentinal Prison is the prison that doesn't, you know, violate all human rights laws and is for nonviolent crimes (i.e., tax fraud, drug selling, etc.) though Amortentia is the only drug that gets you landed straight in Azkaban. 
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, and if you did please leave a comment or come visit me on [my personal tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idkwhyiexist) and [my tomarry tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/crimsonpoppies)!


	11. Facetious pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!! I hope you're doing well. The doc I was working on was so impossible to wrangle (and this chapter was getting practically monstrous) so now I have two docs, and all of the chapters planned out (though they might be subject to change). I didn't expect this story to be such a big undertaking, but I'm actually pretty proud of it and I'm so happy everyone else seems to like it!! 
> 
>   
>    
> Content warning for verbal/emotional abuse, James Potter bashing, and the general icky feelings of going home to an abusive parent to mourn your other parent who is dead. It isn't explicit or anything though.

Standing at the gates of Potter Manor, Harry took a sharp breath in, and on the exhale, pushed open the wrought iron door, letting the familiar copper magic bathe him in a wash of rust and citrus. It should be comforting, but Potter Manor had never felt like home. 

Harry brushed his fingers over the sloppily trimmed bushes -- the family magic and ground enchantments had weakened over the years, and the house-elves had wasted away with the deaths of Grandmother Euphemia, Grandfather Fleamont, Great-Uncle Charles, Great-Aunt Dorea, and Mother. Cousin Rhodesia was married to Heir Ingram Nott, so she was ineligible to inherit, and her magic had been pulled from the Potter Family at her marital rites, though her blood let her still perform remembrance rites. Harry and his father were the only Potters left. 

  
  


Despite Minister Peverell’s best attempts, the old houses were dying, and their family magic weakening. The war and subsequent punishment of light families left most houses with one or two surviving members (or none, in the case of the Prewetts and Selwyns). Families were forced to blood adopt or marry mundane-borns to keep the name alive, but it was really no use. 

  
  


The leaves and trees were colorful and wild, all fire and sunshine, on the cusp of change and death. Harry meandered down the grimy cobblestone path till he stopped at the imposing cherry wood doors. Harry fixed his hair, and without his influence, the doors swung open to reveal James. 

  
  


The man looked just as he always did: entirely put together, save for his thumb-print eye-bags, and the stale smell of fire-whiskey that perfumed his being. 

  
  


“Harrison.” 

  
  


“Father.” 

  
  


“Welcome home.” 

  
  


“Many thanks.” 

  
  


“Good to see your manners are still salvageable despite all the rumors I’ve heard about you. Come in; you’re letting the cold and warm air mix.” 

  
  


Harry stepped in, and the door slammed shut behind him. He willed himself not to flinch and made indirect eye contact with James. 

“We have been invited to the annual bonfire and rites this year, as well as the Black family rites, in addition to the--” James paused and swallowed, “Our familial rites.” 

  
  


Harry nodded in acquiescence and followed his father down the hall. It was quite lovely at first glance, with its marble floors, and gaudy cherry wood, crimson velvet, and burnished gold decorations, but if one looked closely, the wood was rotten, the velvet faded and moth-eaten, and the gold tarnished. 

  
  


James continued as they walked. “Sirius and Remus will be coming over for the mourning ceremony of our darling Lily, but they will be leaving after so we may perform the ancestor mourning rites. Cousin Rhodesia will be there for both -- she’s decided that Young Cousin Aquila will not be performing in the Potter rites despite her recent 7th birthday, so Young Cousin Aquila will not be coming. Tomorrow, on Samhain, we will meet up with Cousin Rhodesia, Heir Ingram Nott, and Young Cousin Aquila to head to the annual bonfire and rites. On Sunday, you will be attending the Black rites with Heir Solumn Sirius Black instead of alone as the norm.” 

  
  


“Any questions?” 

Harry had many questions, but he knew better than to ask them, so he just said, “No, Father.” 

“Good. It is to both my relief and distaste that we are attending the annual ceremony for the first time this year, though I presume you will enjoy the chance to see that friend of yours, Hermione.” 

“Yes, Father. I am quite excited to perform a rite with her.” 

James hummed in agreement, entering the dining room, and questions buzzed in Harry’s head. He had always gone to the Black family rites, so that was no surprise, and of course, he attended the Potter rites, but he and James had never been allowed to the annual event. What had changed? Harry had a sick feeling he knew, but he pushed that away when they entered the dining room proper. There were bolts of fabric splayed across the table, and pincushions littered the floor. Clearly, Topsy had been at work. 

“You will be getting new ritual clothes -- different ones for each rite --, and hopefully they’ll cover your frame. You’ve been getting rather, dare I say, fat, so I better not see you pig out like normal at the dinner tonight.” 

Harry had not, actually, gained weight since the summer, but the comment stung in that sort of muted way, not cleaving straight to his heart but poking at his defenses, analyzing where he’d crumble. Still, it hurt, and he pasted over a smile that turned into a genuine one when he heard the tinny voice of Topsy, the ancient seamstress elf. She was withered and wrinkled, both from her actual age and then from the lack of magic in the air. Three generations ago, Potter Manor was a bustling home full of life, but now its magic was weakened, reputation dashed, and home all but decrepit. 

A basket of threads of every color floated up to him, and when he peered behind the positively massive basket, he saw Topsy and nodded in greeting. She could barely speak with how little magic James had fed her, so, as she began to measure Harry, he siphoned off a little bit of magic and looked on satisfied as she gained a little pep in her step and began to steadily chatter throughout the process of robesmaking. 

“-it is being so wonderful to have you back-” 

His white linen undergarments were first, so he stripped to his trousers and stood there, shivering, as his father looked on impassively, and Topsy did her best to work quickly. After that, cornflower blue fabric draped over his lithe frame, wrapping snugly to his body in some places and flowing gracefully in others. His Potter robes were arranged as Topsy sewed them, a deep v showcasing his embroidered chemise and crimson accents contrasting the soft blue of the Potter crest. 

“-blue is looking so nice on you this year-” 

Harry’s second set of robes was a four-piece set, done in heavy black velvet and sickle-colored, silvery silk. The high-collared top was first, gold buttons fastened into place with quick precision, and embroidery thread sewed itself as Topsy cut velvet with her fabric shears. The pants piece was next, and pleats were ironed to a crisp fold by the palm of Topsy’s hands. His skirt was draped and sewn into the belt piece that Topsy had decided fit better with the skirt than the top. The cloak with its billowy shape and oppressive heaviness was the final part of the Black ritual robes.

“-raven black would be matching your hair better, but midnight black is being the Black family color-” 

There used to be -- at least, according to the painting of Great-Great-Great Grandmother Melphia -- a jewelry-maker house-elf, but no longer, so the only jewelry the Potter family had any longer was the rare heirloom and wedding gifts. With the limited selection (wixen were buried with their jewelry), Topsy picked out the best accessories for his status and outfit and then proceeded to make his stag mask for the annual rites, complete with gold antlers. 

‘-it is being so wonderful to finally make rite masks-” 

It would be nice to finally have a mask of his own. Hermione and Draco had never talked about them around him since they knew he was barred from the annual rites, but he had seen theirs one or two times (Hermione’s being a deep blue general masquerade mask and Draco’s being a peacock mask) and had intense and quite embarrassing jealousy for them. And now, his childish wish he’d had since his seventh birthday -- the year children could join in on rites -- would be granted. 

“-oh what a lovely stag you is making-” 

In addition to his embroidered animal mask, Topsy made a white linen shift reminiscent of an overly simplified dress and braided a rope of crimson and cornflower blue for the annual rites. Though no longer popular in family rites, even among the most old-fashioned, traditional way of dress was always adopted in the annual rites. So, it was most important to have a white shift, rope showing your family, and an animal mask showcasing status and family for the annual rites of Yule, Imbolc, Ostara, Beltane, Litha, Lughnasadh, Mabon, Samhain. 

Harry was glad he could start the magical cycle for the first time and was looking forward to celebrating Ostara and Imbolc with his peers, especially. He and other children of war criminals had been barred from all non-ancestral calendar rites, so Harry had never liked to think of the mid-September day where all his classmates were gone (with the exception of Neville Longbottom and few others) to celebrate Mabon, among others. Mabon was actually the hardest because the Potter family didn’t observe it ancestrally, so it was just a glaring date Harry did his best to ignore. 

He left his ruminating behind in time to change back into his day robes and head up to his room to begin getting ready for the dinner party and subsequent mourning rites. Harry entered the bathroom and drew himself a bath -- Billa, the handmaiden house-elf, would be with James, so Harry would get himself ready. Harry scrubbed his skin raw and rinsed his hair, one, two, three times. Afterward, he drained the bathtub and dried himself off completely. He sat, naked, at the vanity and manicured his nails, eyebrows, facial hair, and body hair till he was as close to perfection one could get. Kohl lined his eyes and filled in his brows, vermillion powder dusted his eyelids and cheeks, and cake mascara lengthened his lashes into near-impossible lengths. Pigmented oils were scrubbed unto his skin to cast a shimmery glow and gave his lips an imperceptible shine. With a flick and swish of his wand, his Potter robes were wrapped on him, and after a few unnecessary de-wrinkling charms, he was ready to go. 

Harry didn’t bother with shoes -- it wasn’t like they were necessary or even customary for formal ceremonies. He strode down the hall and stairs and looped around the mansion till he was at the entrance, where James already was. 

“You’re late.” 

“My apologies,” Harry murmured, bowing his head. 

“And your robe is ill-fitting.”

James readied himself for a lecture when the ward alarms sounded and laughter was heard on the manor grounds. It was Uncle Moony, Uncle Sirius, and Cousin Rhodesia. James straightened up, put on a moonshine smile -- all play pretend. 

As the trio approached the door, James swung them open, gesturing broadly, with a plasticky smile everyone could tell was false. 

“Mr. Remus, Heir Solumn Black, Cousin Rhodesia, welcome, welcome. Tinsel and Mipsy have been working quite hard on a lovely memorial feast.” 

James continued for quite some time, ignoring how everyone was quite uncomfortable with how he talked about Lily. It was this strange sort of immortalization and worship that didn’t align with how any real person should be treated. He idolized her and placed her on an untouchable pedestal after her death, and it was near impossible to deal with. No one wanted to speak ill of the dead, but Lily was by no means a perfect person. 

His waxing on of Lily was cut short when the group stood at the dining room entrance, and the dining ritual began. First, James entered as the host, and then Harry followed as the heir. Cousin Rhodesia, as the last blood-relative, entered the room, and Sirius and finally Remus trailed in. They stood at their seats, and a ring of magic, they all sat down. First, a simple soup was served; butternut squash -- Lily’s favorite. Then followed course after course of small meals, legumes, meats, grains, berries, squashes, and dairies made appearances, and with each one, the best part was set aside onto a massive golden platter in the center of the table. 

The dinner was scattered with meaningless chatter: how was school, how is Little Cousin Aquila, what are some recent projects you’ve taken on, any new legislation? It was mind-numbing and dull, though only made that way with James’ presence. He refused to talk of anything but Lily.  _ Lily, Lily, Lily. _ Was it any wonder that Harry had grown to resent her over the years? He loved her, to be sure, but instead of focusing on the present and the future, James was focused on decades in the past. It was nice to remember people, but to only ever constantly talk of her? It was excessive and obsessive. 

After the last dessert had been consumed, they all stood up at James’ command and walked out, robes billowing, all carrying the tray of offerings. They walked to the roaring bonfire set up by the house-elves, and the sacrifice started. James gently tossed a slice of sourdough bread smeared with strawberry jam into the fire, and as the bread charred, they all chanted, “Accipit munera nostra Domina Magicae,” three times. Samhain had begun in earnest. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Information: 
> 
> James is meant to be a perfectionist sort of father, and his normal state is just cruel and emotionally abusive, but his bad days, which you might remember from the legilimency chapters, are really bad. I didn't show that because I don't want to, and also, I feel like showing him the way I did is more realistic and more impactful. Likewise, it fits better with how Harry acts. 
> 
> The Samhain ritual I did was a mesh of tons of different celebrations/ceremonies (including but not limited to ancient Celtic Samhain rites, Día de los Muertos, and All Saints Day/All Souls Day), so it's not accurate to anything real and hopefully feels like an actual ceremony a culture completely split off from the rest of the world would have. 
> 
> The Latin means, "Accept our offerings Lady Magic." 
> 
> [drawings of harry's robes](https://idkwhyiexist.tumblr.com/post/645151872948273153/drawings-for-my-fic-possessiveness-and-other-such)
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, and if you did please leave a comment or come chat with me on [my personal tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idkwhyiexist) and [my tomarry tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/crimsonpoppies)!


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